


For the Love of Yevgeny

by llttlenoel



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Baby Yevgeny, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian, Daddy Kink, Delusions, Domestic Ian Gallagher, Domestic Mickey Milkovich, Love/Hate, M/M, Oral Sex, Parent Mickey Milkovich, Romantic Tension, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, pinning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-12-25 20:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 57,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12043785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llttlenoel/pseuds/llttlenoel
Summary: “You okay, man?” Ian laughed darkly and shook his head.“Fuck no, Igg. What the hell is he doing here? He’s supposed to be in fucking prison.” Iggy nodded and lifted his hands to calm Ian as best he could. It didn’t do much, though, for Ian was already shaking with wide, wild eyes.“I know. Lana was telling me that he got out early. Apparently your sister is fuckin’ insane so the case got thrown out or some shit-““You guys knew?” Now anger and betrayal were being added into the dangerous cocktail of emotions coursing through his body. Iggy shook his head.“No, no- well yeah, but just found out today. He showed up earlier when I was getting ready for work, but left to go get Yev, and then came back and talked to Lana-““He tried to get Yev?”“Yeah. I tried to tell him not to, just stay here and wait for Lana so she could explain, but he doesn’t fucking listen for shit, you know that.” Ian nodded and looked around the street. His heart was pounding and he knew he was sweating up a storm. Why did this have to be happening to him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I know it hasn't been long since I finished Rose-Colored Boy, but I wanted to post the first chapter of the second fic I've been working on today for my friend's birthday. This fic is for her, Chelsea, and the plot was her idea, I just made it come to life and added my own flair to it. There are a few things I need to mention about this one, though, to better your reading experience. There is a lot of use of Russian words in this fic, so I'll be putting a translation list in the notes at the end of each chapter so you can understand what they're saying. As a disclaimer, though, I don't speak Russian, so I just had to use Google translate for everything, so some things may not be right but I tried my best. Also, sometimes someone will go off on a tangent in Russian, or speak solely Russian in certain situations; to make those encounters easier read, I wrote them in English, but bolded the text, so anything that is bold is them speak in Russian, just translated in English. I hope you enjoy this story even more than my last, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts! Thank you so much for all your support!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian to English Translations
> 
> Krshyy - Red
> 
> Schast'ye - Happiness
> 
> Oranzhevyy - Orange
> 
> Morkov' - Carrot
> 
> Krolik - Rabbit
> 
> Da - Yeah
> 
> Lapsha - Noodles
> 
> Spagetti - Spaghetti
> 
> Noch', morkov' - Night, carrot

**_ Chapter One _ **

 

                Mornings in the Gallagher house have never resembled anything quiet and calm, which really made peaceful mornings hard to get used to. With the kids older now, and everyone out doing their own things, the house was hardly ever full anymore. Fiona was still there, running things as best as she saw fit; cooking whatever was on hand, cleaning when essential, just keeping her family alive and healthy and out of prison. Easier said than done. Lip was off living with whatever new girl he was sleeping with and was hardly ever there. Carl was still at the house, but only when he was home from the army and not out on duty. Debbie was still going strong with her own little family, but would still came around to visit and catch up. And, of course Liam.

 

                Ian didn’t think he’d ever get used to the quiet mornings where it was only Fiona, Liam, and himself in the house, and didn’t know how’d he ever manage if he had to live on his own someday. It was on those still mornings that he actually missed the yelling and banging walls the most; the mornings where he was so tired he just couldn’t get out of bed without someone coming in his room, practically dumping water on his sleeping body. But, against everything in his mind and body telling him to sleep just a little longer to make up for the late night he had, he still got himself up, dressed, and down the stairs. There were things to be done, and the world did not stop because of a child’s nightmare or a possible monster in the closet.

 

                When he walked down into the kitchen, he was met with Fiona sending Liam off to school with his backpack. He had just missed his younger brother by the time he fully came into the room, so made a beeline for whatever coffee was left in the pot. “Mornin’. Late night, huh?” Fiona greeted her brother, noting his droopy eyes and heavy yawn. Ian took two big gulps of his coffee before he even got the pot back in its station and nodded.

 

                “Yeah, guess so. Svet needed some help with Yev. He had another bad dream and only wanted me,” Ian yawned again. He finished off his cup and placed it in the sink before turning to face Fiona where she stood on the other side of the kitchen and leaned his backside against the counter. The older sister just frowned and crossed her arms.

 

                “Why are you still doin’ this shit, Ian?” Ian mirrored his sister with his own frown and furrowed his red brows.

 

                “What shit?” He was too tired to catch on right away, but realized after he’d already asked and just sighed, preparing himself.

 

                “This shit with your fuckin’ ex’s kid. When you’re not here or at work you’re over there with them. You spend so much time and effort on that kid and for what? You waitin’ for Mickey or tryin’ to win him over again? He’s not coming back, Ian, and he’s shit anyway. He’s not good for you, nothing about that family is-“

 

                “This isn’t about Mickey, I’m not doing shit for him, I haven’t in years. This is about Yev. He’s only four, he needs someone. Svet can’t do this on her own, they need me, _Yev_ needs me. I love that kid, Fi, so fucking much. I’d do anything for him, and I am. For _him_ , no one else.” Ian’s voice sounded tired but still held heat. He’d lost count of how many times he had to explain to people his situation, and it never got easier. Most of his family got it, well, Debbie got it and Carl more or less got it. It was really just Lip and Fiona who didn’t understand or approve of his actions. He didn’t know how many more times he could have this fight.

 

                “No? What about you? When was the last time you dated someone? If this wasn’t about Mickey, you would’ve moved on. You haven’t brought anyone around since that Trevor kid, and that was, what, three years ago?” Fiona sighed. She sounded just as tired as Ian now. She knew what it was like to take on the responsibility of raising someone else’s kids, and couldn’t see why her brother would put himself through the pain for his ex’s kid. “Haven’t you learned anything from me? I had to take all of you on, you think I liked it? Think I’d want to do it again or watch one of you do the fuckin’ same for yourself?”

 

                “Nice, Fi, why don’t you _really_ tell me how much you fucking hated taking care of us. Should’ve just fuckin’ left us in a car somewhere like Frank and Monica if we were really that hard for you to choose.” Fiona tilted her head and looked hurt; her eyes were wide and sad in that typical Fiona fashion. She stood up more and opened her mouth to defend her statement, but Ian cut her off before she got a chance. “I don’t need to go out and date because I don’t need to stick my dick in guys to be at peace with my life, Fiona, _fuck_. I’m happy, okay? My meds are balanced and I haven’t had any problems in years, I have a great job and a healthy routine. I’m helping out a family and a child who needs it. Why does it matter who his dad is or if I’m fucking people?”

 

 Fiona looked like she was thinking of some counter argument, but Ian just wasn’t interested. It was too early for this, he still wasn’t fully awake, and honestly, he just didn’t want to fucking talk to her anymore. He rolled his eyes and pushed off the counter with a sigh. “I gotta go. Gotta get Yev to school.” He walked right passed his sister, into the living room.

 

                “Could you stop by the store after-“

 

                “Nope. I’m helping Svet with some shit. I already put a third of my last paycheck in the squirrel fund. I don’t run errands.” He grabbed his coat off the hook and heard a quiet ‘I bet you would if _Svet_ asked’ as he closed the front door. He stood on the porch and closed his eyes for a minute, breathing in the cool fall air and letting it chill his skin. “Just a couple more months,” he said quietly to himself and opened his eyes. He took a deep breath and headed down the stairs to the side walk and began his journey to the Milkovich house. The whole way, Ian just thought about what his life would be like a year from now. Not much would be different, but he wouldn’t have to deal with his judgmental family anymore. He’d have his own place with Svet and Yev, and, let’s be real, probably Iggy, too; his little family.

 

                Around the time Svet had stopped seeing Kev and V, and got the bar to herself, she moved back into the Milkovich house. Only Iggy had been living there at the time, and he didn’t mind the company, and is really good with Yev, as it turns out. But, none of them wanted to stay long, and three years later, they were still there. It would be nice to have their own space that was _theirs_ and not tainted with memories, good or bad, of a particular raven-haired man that Ian never thought about anymore.

 

For a lot of people, being another parental figure in Yevgeny’s life would be a big thing, if not _the_ thing that was still connecting him to a bitter and painful past. But, for Ian, that wasn’t even close to the case. Yev was basically a bright light in the murkiness of the old Milkovich home and memories. It was the house that was holding him back and tripping him up the most. It had gotten better over the years, though, to the point where he didn’t even bat an eye when he crossed the threshold of the house. No memory that wasn’t of him helping with Svetlana with something, or hanging out with Iggy, or playing with little Yev ever floated to the surface of his mind.

 

                Getting an apartment or house or just whatever the fuck he could get his hands on would be nice to get away from his nagging sister, but would also cut the one last tie he felt he had with his former lover. It would be so free and liberating and the thought had him walking the whole way to Svet’s house with a goofy smile on his face, that he didn’t even notice until he walked into to the house and caught Svetlana eyeing him oddly. “Krasnyy, why you smile,” she asked through her tick accent when he closed the front door. She was standing in the kitchen cleaning dishes that were from breakfast. Ian strode across the living room to give her a hand, putting the dry ones away.

 

                “Schast'ye, Lana, schast'ye! Some people smile when they’re happy,” he joked and lightly kicked her calf while she shook her head.

 

                “When they have real reason to feel happy. It is too early for that.”

 

                “Yeah, well, I was thinkin’ about the house I’m gonna get us. Made me happy. That good enough?” He watched Svetlana tip her head from one side to the other, thinking for a moment.

 

                “Is a good house, yes?”

 

                “Only the best for us.”

 

                “Yes, fine, good enough.” Ian smiled to himself in victory. “Thank you again for last night. He would not let us calm him. Only wanted his oranzhevyy,” she sighed and turned around. “I am worried. He does not stop having these dreams. He is too old for this.” Ian smiled softly at Svet’s quiet tone, and shook his head lightly.

 

                “If some nightmares every once in a while is all he gets, that’s not too bad for a little blonde Milkovich boy growing up in Southside. Some nightmares don’t ever go away, mine don’t. We just get better at dealing with them. He’s just a kid, Lana, he’ll be okay.” Ian had stepped closer while he was talking, and pressed a quick kiss to the woman’s cheek, still smiling. Svetlana opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted loudly.

 

                “Morkov’!” Ian didn’t even get a chance to turn to the shouting before his leg was attacked in a strong hug from his favorite kid (or person) on the planet. He knelt to level himself with Yevgeny and opened his long arms to get a proper hug from the boy.

 

                “Morning, krolik. Did ya sleep better after I left last night?” Yev nodded into Ian’s shoulder and pulled back with a bright smile that Ian couldn’t help returning.

 

                “Yeah! No more bad dreams! Thank you for scaring the monsters away,” he said sweetly. This kid had such a hold on Ian’s heart, he could probably kill a man, and with one look at that sun-shining face, he’d just help him hide the body. He nodded and kissed the boy’s forehead.

 

                “’Course, no monster s’gonna get ya, s’long as I’m here, krolik.” The two hugged again, quickly, and Ian stood up. “Go grab your backpack and sweater and we’ll go, okay?” Yevgeny nodded eagerly and ran off into his room. Ian turned back to Svetlana who had been watching the whole exchange, and if there was a smile on her face, is was very faint and only lasted a second.

 

                “He loves you,” she said softly. She used to hold more of a warning tone in her voice when she spoke like that to him; reminding him how attached the boy had become in such a quick time, and what would happen to both of them if he ever left. Over the time the two had known each other, even when Mickey was still in the picture, Svetlana had shot Ian so many threats, while he had eventually gotten used to them, they could still scare him. Svet was very intimidating. The beginning of their ‘relationship’ had been rocky and awkward, but smoothed out easily enough when Svet finally realized Ian was in this and wasn’t going anywhere. Yev may have latched onto Ian, but Ian had latched on to Yev just as hard.

 

                “ _I_ love _him_ ,” he smiled back. She turned back to the sink to finish up the dishes and Ian went into the living room to wait for Yevgeny, looking around the room but not thinking too much about anything.

 

                “School fees must be paid, you have check?” Svet called out after a minute. Ian slid his hand into his back pocket to triple check, even though he knew it was there.

 

                “Yup, gonna drop it off with Yev.” He looked back up to see Yev running from his room to the kitchen, hugging his mother goodbye. He ran back into the living room and reached his hand out for Ian to hold, which he grabbed quickly. “I’m staying late tonight to make dinner still, yeah?”

 

                “Da. Dumb fucks upstairs cannot run place alone. Need adult to hold their hand like they are babies.” Yev looked up at Ian with a confused look on his face.

 

                “Okay, well, I’ll see you after then.” He pulled Yevgeny along out the door and started their walk to one of the nicer daycares Southside had to offer, which was really saying something considering he could remember a time where his younger sister ran one of the top daycares out of their living room. He felt Yev pulling on his hand as they crossed the street and looked down to see his blue eyes staring back at him.

 

                “I need you to hold my hand, but I’m not a baby,” he stated. Ian chuckled and nodded.

 

                “No, you’re not. Not only babies need their hands held, though. Sometimes even grownups need their hands held.” Yev nodded thoughtfully.

 

                “Do you need your hand held, daddy- I mean Ian?” _Damn kids and their unknowingly deep questions_. Ian smiled at the boy’s name slip. It had happened a few times over the course of their time together, and he understood. It was like calling your teacher mom or dad in school. Ian was the closest thing Yevgeny had to a father figure in his life, and it got confusing for him. Yev saw kids on tv and at daycare calling for their daddies, and he didn’t know why he didn’t have one, so sometimes he found himself slipping and referring to Ian as his dad.

 

                When Ian was a kid, he went through the same thing. His own parents were rarely around, so he didn’t know who he was supposed to call mom and dad. There was even a few times he’d called Fiona ‘mommy’, because she was the one who was always there and would make him dinner and put him to bed. He never chastised Yevgeny calling him dad, and never minded too much, anyway, so he always breezed by it, not wanting to embarrass him.

 

                “Yeah, I do, sometimes.”

 

                “You can hold my hand when you need to, morkov’.” Ian looked down at the boy, who was just staring straight ahead, and felt his heart tighten. Yevgeny didn’t even know what he was doing when he said stuff like that, but it still made Ian feel good. He loved the relationship he got to build with Yevgeny and how close they’ve grown. Yevgeny had quickly made his way up into the top spot of Ian’s priority list, and has been there for years now. And, with that little dirty-blonde boy being his number one concern for everything, he also found himself thinking about Yev when he was upset or stressed. Sometimes he’d need to think about hugging him to help him get through a long day, or thinking of his laugh for a bright pick me up. Ian didn’t drink anymore, he couldn’t on his medication, but he had Yev, which was better most days anyway. He squeezed the small hand just a touch.

 

                “Thanks, rabbit.”

 

 

⁂

 

 

                “-and then we got to play outside ‘cause it was warm and then we had a snack,” Yev rambled excitedly. Ian was nodding along to his words as the young boy told him about his day at daycare. They were walking back to Yev’s house, Yev himself on Ian’s shoulders and hugging the tall man tightly around the neck. The sun had all but set, giving the streets a gentle glow from what was still visible of the sun and the street lights that began switching on. It was chilly out, so Ian made sure to hold Yev tight. Even though the kid’s days rarely varied from the same routine at school, Ian still enjoyed hearing the things he did in his day. “Did anything cool happen at work?” he asked, kicking his feet lightly against Ian’s chest.

 

                “Let me think,” he hummed and pursed his lips. “Well, it was a pretty boring day. Got a little kid, though, about your age.” Ian felt Yevgeny sit up straighter and move his small hands from his neck to atop his ginger head.

 

                “Really? What happened?”

 

                “Broke his arm, real bad. Was out climbin’ a tree even though his mom told him to get down. He fell out and snapped his arm.”

 

                “Could you see bone?” Ian huffed a laugh and shook his head. When he had originally started sharing gruesome stories with Yev about work after he officially became a paramedic, he had done so hoping to use them as lessons; someone got hit by a car, so don’t play in the street. Someone got stabbed and robbed, so don’t walk around town by yourself. But, Yev loved hearing the stories. He liked knowing what ghastly sights the man had seen on the job; the more blood the better. Ian should’ve figured as much; a Milkovich, through and through.

 

                “I mean, yeah, but that’s not the point. The point is that’s why you can’t do that shit, right?” Yev nodded weakly and slumped back down onto Ian’s shoulders. “When your mom says to knock something off, do what she says, got it? You’ll worry us all if something happens to ya.” He squeezed one of the boy’s calves lightly and pulled him off his shoulders as they approached the gate to the Milkovich house. “What do you want for dinner?” He asked as they walked through the front door. Yevgeny ran straight for the couch to turn on cartoons while he thought for a moment.

 

                “Lapsha! Spagetti!” he cheered. It was crazy how quickly Ian had adjusted to the Russian Yev and Svet were always speaking, and even picked up more and more along the way. About two years ago, after he was only able to piece things that were being said together and had a handful of words and phrases under his belt, he had asked Lana to help him out and teach him. It was a lost cause for a long time; Svet not being the most attentive teacher, and things just not clicking for Ian, but he finally got the hang of it. Now he could speak just as much Russian as Yevgeny could, and often used it when he was ranting or cursing or talking about something or someone he didn’t want to be overheard. It really had come in handy for more than just knowing what the hell Svetlana was always saying.

 

                “Spaghetti it is,” he laughed and headed to the kitchen to start dinner. Tuesdays and Thursdays were usually the nights that Ian would stay longer and feed Yev and put him to bed, so he’d gotten pretty used to the routine easily enough.

 

                “Hey, man,” Iggy said as he walked into the kitchen from where he had been in his room. Ian turned around and smiled simply while he continued pulling pots and pans out of the cupboards.

 

                “Hey, Igg, what’s up?” Iggy yawned and hopped on the counter on the other side of the kitchen.

 

                “Not much, just hanin’ out. Fuckin’ tired, long night at the club. Was gonna see what you were doin’ this weekend.” Iggy was peering into a couple opened beer cans on the counter next to him for one that held enough liquid for at least a couple sips. Ian put a large pot of water on the stove and turned back to face Iggy while he waited for the water to heat to a boil.

 

                “Nothin’ just the usual, gonna be here with Yev while Lana’s out, why you got some secret plan you’re trying to drag me into?” he chuckled.

 

                “Nah, not this time. Eric from work s’got another car in the other day, wanted to see if you wanted to come hang out while I work on it? Get out for a bit, ya know?”

 

                “Yeah, yeah,” Ian nodded, “that’s sounds cool. It’s been a while since we got to do something without Yev.”

 

                “Seriously. Fuckers attached to your damn hip. Doesn’t want to share you with the rest of us.” Ian laughed and shook his head as Iggy slid off the counter to leave the room. “Make me a plate and just leave it in the fridge, will ya? Gonna go back to sleep.” he added.

 

                “Sure thing, Igg,” Ian called over his shoulder and turned back to the stove to begin making the meat sauce. While making dinner, he let his mind wonder to wherever it wanted to. He thought about work, about hanging out with Yevgeny and Iggy, anything and everything until he wandered back to the idea of their future house. They’d have their own space, their own lives; they’d be a real family, which is all Ian found himself wanting anymore. He went from being the forgotten Gallagher to one of the more important fixtures in the life of a four-year-old boy, who he loved with all his heart. He felt like he was really needed. Any thoughts he may have had as teenager of how it wouldn’t matter if he was around or not had disappeared the moment he stepped into Yevgeny’s life, and he felt a stronger sense of stability than just getting himself out of bed and to work. He had more than himself to live for, and that was more important sometimes.

 

                After a messy dinner of spaghetti, and dishes and faces were washed, Ian carried a sleepy Yev to his room. “Want a story tonight?” Like he had to ask. Yev was nodding enthusiastically as Ian laid him down into his small bed on the far corner of the room that he shared with his mom. Ian smiled and sat on the edge of the bed after covering the small boy with his soft blanket. “Okay,” he laughed, “what kinda story?” Yevgeny scrunched up his nose in thought.

 

                “The one about the lion,” he yawned. Ian smiled and nodded.

 

                “So, once upon a time, there was a lonely lion who lived in the jungle. He had a large family, but it was so big, that no one ever payed attention him; they were too busy with their own lives. The lion wished that one day he could get out of the jungle and look for new friends and start his own family, but no one thought any of the other animals would want to be friends with a lion because they would be too scared he’d eat them, so they told him to stop dreaming.” Yev frowned and Ian mimicked the sad face down to him, but only for a moment, before continuing. “One day, the lion decided to go on a walk around the outskirts of the jungle. He hadn’t expected to see anything, but just wanted to stretch his paws.

 

                “Somewhere along the way, he heard faint crying and whimpering. The lion had never heard such a small sound before, and was interested immediately. He walked around a little longer, following the cries. He finally came across a big tree, and behind it, was a baby rabbit. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked the rabbit. ‘My family is gone and I’m all alone,’ the baby bunny said. The lion looked around for any sign of more rabbits, but couldn’t see any. ‘You can stay with me, we’ll find your family,’ the lion said. He lifted the bunny up and placed him on his back. The two walked around the jungle for days and days, but never found anyone who knew the rabbit. Days turned to weeks, to months, and eventually, years had passed.

 

                “The two had become best friends, never wandering apart from the other. They were their own little family. They loved each and took care of each other. The lion protected the rabbit, and the rabbit was a friend to the lion. No one ever thought the lion would find what he was looking for, and the lion never thought he’d find his own family, but he did. The rabbit and the lion saved each other, and neither left the other for the rest of their lives.” Ian looked back down at Yevgeny in the dimly lit bedroom. He wasn’t fully asleep, his eyes were still barely blinking, but he’d be out any minute. Ian bent down and kissed the boy’s pale forehead softly, and stood from the bed.

 

                “Noch', morkov” Yev whispered, eyes fully closed now.

 

                “Night, krolik.” Ian quietly padded into the bathroom of the bedroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out his back up pill bottles he always kept around the house. This had really become a second home for him, so he had to make sure he was prepared for the nights when he had to stay over. He left the bathroom and snuck out of the bedroom, closing the door most of the way, just leaving it cracked enough to listen for Yevgeny. He plopped himself on the couch with a heavy sigh. Svetlana would probably be a couple more hours. On the nights she just ran the bar, she wasn’t gone for so long, but sometimes she had to help around above the bar. She had been struggling with money ever since Mickey left, and the bar wasn’t cutting it the older Yev got. Ian did what he could, paying for Yev’s daycare every month and buying groceries when they were in need, but it still wasn’t always enough. She decided that she needed to get more money flowing through the household somehow.

 

                The thought of bringing the girls back to work crossed her mind, but now, with Yev, she couldn’t risk getting busted for pimping out girls above her bar. So, she sold the space, while still holding some authority. She rented it out to a couple of guys who wanted start their own ‘business’ of sorts. She never asked too many questions; the less she knew, the better. If she kept her nose out of the specifics, she couldn’t get in much trouble if they got themselves busted. The men, like most, where dumb, and, more often than not, needed Svet’s help with the bookings and numbers. She’d go up every so often to make sure they were still making money and were able to pay her. It wasn’t a life changing amount of money, but it kept the family alive and skimming by. And, eventually, with the paychecks of Ian, Svet, _and_ Iggy, they started doing pretty well for themselves.

 

                With the knowledge that Lana could be out for a while (he was also suspicious that she was seeing one of the people up there but wasn’t sure), he figured he might as well get comfy on the couch. Ian had had to sleep over plenty of times, for all different reasons, so it wasn’t anything new. He sighed and pulled out his phone. He’d have to tell Fiona he wouldn’t be back tonight or else she’d think he’d run off again or something. That’s _really_ what he needed right now. He rolled his eyes. She only seemed to care when he didn’t need her to, and about things that weren’t any of her business to begin with.

 

                _Ian: hey fi im not comin home tonight but ill be back after work tomorrow_

He didn’t bother waiting for a response, and instead locked his phone and tossed it on the table. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he was on the couch, and now he couldn’t stop yawning. He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch onto himself and laid back into the cushions. He was practically asleep before his head even touched the fabric.

 

 

⁂

 

 

                “-nothing is certain yet, they’re waiting to run the tests until next week, and then we have to wait for the results, at least one court date, but this could be very good for you.”

 

                “How? What the fuck does any of that mean?” Mickey furrowed his brows deeply and stared back at his lawyer.

 

                “It means, if the tests come back that Miss Slott is indeed mentally unstable, your whole case could be thrown out and you could be released. Nothing she said in the court or anything about the incident can be seen as reliable.” The sweaty man was smiling back at Mickey like he just saved his life, and, honestly, he kind of did. His face softened and he felt himself smiling back at the man.

 

                “Jim, I could fuckin’ kiss ya right now.” Jim laughed.

 

                “I’d prefer you didn’t but the gesture is appreciated. For now, let’s save the kissing until we get you out of here, huh?” Mickey nodded and let out a heavy breath. With charges like attempted murder, he never thought he’d be a free man again, but now with the possibility of having the whole thing thrown out was getting him down right giddy. Jim stood up, reaching his hand out to shake Mickey’s, and smiled again. “I’ll keep you updated with what’s going on, and hopefully the next time you see me, you’re about to walk out of here for good.” Mickey shook the man’s meaty hand and sighed happily again. He waited for the guard to grab him and walk him back to his cell, but hardly noticed anything was going on at all. The whole way he was just seeing the life he could have now that he was getting out.

 

                The biggest thing he saw was Ian. It had been years since he last saw the red head, and sure, maybe he never answered his calls or wrote back to him, but that was just under the circumstances. Ian loved Mickey just as much as Mickey loved Ian, he was sure of it. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of the man he loved. He was never mad that he didn’t come to see him; he was hurt in the beginning, but he eventually understood. It was probably too hard for Ian to see and think about Mickey locked up like this, especially for trying to kill his sister, no matter how detached she was from the Gallaghers and how much she deserved it. He knew it would take a toll on him to see Ian like that if the roles were switched. It was hard enough to see Ian when he had been in the hospital or laying in bed for weeks on end, but at least then he could touch Ian and hold him.

 

                Mickey climbed into his bunk, pulling his hands behind his head, and smiled to himself. He would be seeing Ian, soon, and things could go back to how they used to be, how they were _supposed_ to be. “You in the mood?” Mickey’s thoughts were snapped away and he refocused his attention to his cellmate, who was hanging his head over the top bunk and looking at him.

 

                “Fuck off, cupcake. We’re done with that shit,” he sighed and rolled over, facing the wall, staring right at the old, tattered photo of Ian flipping off the camera he had taped by his head. Mickey couldn’t even think about fucking other dudes in here anymore, not when he had the thought of Ian waiting for him on the outside. He could almost count down the days till he’d see his ginger again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian to English Translations
> 
> Blyad' - Fuck
> 
> Detka - Baby
> 
> Mamochka - Mommy
> 
> Malen'kiy chlen - Small dick
> 
> Zhopa - Ass
> 
> Malen'kaya nizhnyay suka - Little bottom bitch
> 
> Sem'ya - Family
> 
> Krichashchaya suka - Whiny bitch

**_ Chapter Two _ **

 

 

 

 

                Mickey had been outside plenty of times during his three years in prison, but he never realized how nice it would be on the other side of the tall, chain fence that boxed him in. The air smelled fresher, the sky looked bluer, the grass _was_ fucking greener on the other side. They probably did that on purpose to really make you feel shitty for getting yourself locked up. He took a deep breath, ( _okay_ , the air was just as fucking gross on this side, but that’s Chicago), and picked up his bag of possessions he’d dropped on the ground when he had first stepped out from the gate. It had taken a couple weeks after Mickey’s lawyer had told him about Sammi’s mental breakdown in prison, to the point of the bitch needing a psych evaluation, but he made it out. With her mental stability in question, so was everything she had brought into the court room against Mickey. At that point, it didn’t matter that Mickey really had thought about offing her and even hid her 'dead' body, all that mattered was if anyone could trust and believe Sammi without her being of sound mind. And not one person in the courtroom did. Someone out in the universe must’ve been looking out for Mickey for once and was trying to make up for all the atrocious shit he’s had to deal with his whole life to get him out of attempted murder charges.

 

                It didn’t take much looking around for Mickey to spot who he was looking for. He felt a smile spread across his face as their eyes met and all but started running across the street, not even caring about the honking traffic. “Fucking finally, I’ve been waiting out here all damn day,” Mandy punched Mickey’s arm.

 

                “Not my fuckin’ fault, bitch. How the hell was I supposed to know? They don’t tell us shit as it is, forget trying to figure out when you’re leaving the shithole,” He rubbed his arm and gave her a dirty look. He tried to keep his scowl strong, he really did, but he just couldn’t. He instantly broke into another wide smile, and pulled his sister in for a big hug. The two melted into each other’s arms and allowed for it to linger longer than it normally would. Mickey didn’t know he could ever miss his sister so much, but since he got locked up, Mandy was the only person who kept regular contact with him, and they probably grew closer because of it. They talked on the phone often, and wrote back and forth whenever they felt like it. They really had grown so much closer over the years, if he thought about it; Mandy feeling like the only person he had most days; her, and Ian. “Thanks for pickin’ me up,” he sighed when they pulled apart finally, “How’s New York treatin’ ya?”

 

                “It’s fuckin’ crazy, I love it, I don’t think I’ll ever leave,” Mandy said excitedly and her eyes lit up. She turned to the car behind her and pulled open the driver’s door. Mickey got the hint and walked around to get into the passenger’s seat. He looked around the car and instantly felt happy for his sister. It was a nice, new model car, that neither of them would’ve ever dreamed of sitting in, let alone owning.

 

                “You steal this from some rich fuck you’ve been boning?” he snorted. Mandy rolled her eyes and started driving.

 

                “No, shit head, paid for it myself, got the papers and everything. Saved all my money, got a cheap apartment, a car. Got everything I fucking wanted.” Mickey nodded his head while she trailed on. He was happy for his sister and proud for where she’s gone, what she’s done for herself, but he just got released from prison, and there were more pressing matters in his mind. “I’m trying not to fuck around with guys as much anymore, either, so I’m thinkin’ of getting like a-“

 

                “You heard from Gallagher lately?” he interrupted her, mid thought. Mickey turned to his sister, who visibly stiffened behind the wheel, and never let her eyes veer from the blurring road in front of them. Mandy opened her mouth a few times like she was going to say something, but nothing actually came out; she was a total loss for words and didn’t see a way out of this situation. “Hello? You seen fuckhead or what?” Mandy cleared her throat and shook her head, whether to answer his question or clear her mind, he didn’t know.

 

                “Uh, n-no, not really. Haven’t heard much since I left, you know that. A couple times here and there in the beginning, but it’s been a while.” Mickey nodded and slowly looked back out his window. “Have- I mean, what about you? He come see you or anything?” Mandy knew the answer to this already. She _had_ heard from Ian, just as regularly as she did from Mickey, even. In fact, she had planned to stop by for a surprise visit with Ian while she was in town. But Mickey couldn’t know. She knew no one had been to see her brother while he had been locked up, no one was calling him or writing him or making sure he was alive. Milkovichs may not be like other families, but they still looked after their own, so when everyone else abandoned Mickey, she stepped up to the plate. She hadn’t minded much; she was missing him, even though she’d never admit it, and having him in prison gave her an excuse to call and write him without it seeming weird.

 

                Truth was; she worried about him. She knew how bad things got before Mickey got locked up, and how they only got worse. Svetlana had to bribe Ian to visit him, and that only worked the one time. Eventually, even she stopped bringing Yevgeny to visit his dad at prison, and he had no one to come see him. Mandy called him once, just to check in, but then it never stopped, and they talked at least once a week now. Mandy knew her brother, her _favorite_ brother, had no one in his corner, so she had to be, and she’d do so proudly. The only tricky part was being in his corner while still being in Ian’s and balancing her relationships with them both. Mickey sighed next to her and he shook his head. “Nah, still nothin’. I get it though. I know it fuckin’ took me a damn minute, but I know it probably sucks to see me in there. Figured it’s hard on everyone. Think they’d all be used to that shit, me being in and out of juvie, but prison’s different, I guess. Gonna surprise the fuck outta him, though.” He sighed happily and smiled to himself, scrunching his nose up to hide it. “Won’t even know what fuckin’ hit him.”

 

                Mandy nodded slowly and bit her lip. “No, he fuckin’ won’t.” She wouldn’t know how this would turn out, but she knew she’d want to be as far away as possible; this was bound to blow up and cover the whole town in shit. She could visit Ian another time if she had to. “Well, I’ll take you back to the house, then I gotta get back home.”

 

                “Thanks for comin’ down to get me. I didn’t have any other fuckin’ numbers, and I don’t even know if anyone would’ve-“

 

                “It’s cool. I fuckin’ missed ya anyway. Shit sucks when you’re locked up. Besides, can’t ever turn down a reason to come back to this shit hole and remind myself to stay the fuck away.” The siblings laughed and looked around at their surroundings through the dirty windshield. Mickey's neighborhood was just as he remembered, just as he left it; a rotting sack of shit. The scent of garbage and piss old beer wafted through the air conditioning vents of the car and Mickey couldn’t decide if he wanted to bask in the familiarity of it or puke on impact. He knocked his nose with his knuckle as he watched the dingy houses fly by. He never, _ever_ thought he’d miss his house and neighborhood, but after three years in prison, he wanted nothing more than to be right here.

 

                Mandy slowed the car down to a full stop in front of the Milkovich house, which looked exactly the way it had since they were kids; the front window was still reinforced with four-by-fours; the yard and deck were still cluttered with junk and trash. There was less yelling then they could ever recall, though. Mickey turned to his sister and smiled quickly. “Thanks again, would’ve fuckin’ sucked being down there for God knows how long.” He reached over the center console and hugged Mandy as best he could in the small car. She hugged back, a little too tightly for his liking, and sighed into his shoulder.

 

                “Don’t stop callin’ me now just cause you’re out. I wanna know what’s goin’ on in this hell hole,” she said when they pulled apart again. Mickey reached down to grab his bag, and climbed out of the car. He bent down to peak through the still open door.

 

                “Yeah, yeah, and keep scoping out New York for me. I can’t stay here forever.” She rolled her eyes and he flipped her off; their own special goodbye. He closed the door and Mandy was immediately on her way down the street and out of town. Mickey took a deep breath as he turned to face his house and headed inside. He doesn’t know what he was expecting (shouldn’t have expected _anything_ since no one had bothered to keep in contact, anyway), but an empty house wasn’t it. He frowned to himself as he looked around his house. It was probably the cleanest he’s ever seen it; not that it was fucking sparkling or anything, but you could still see a house behind all the junk laying around.

 

                He probably would’ve thought no one lived here anymore if it weren’t for the fact that there were kid’s toys thrown about, but everything else seemed pretty tidy. The kid must still be here. Can live in his fuckin’ house but couldn’t come visit his own dad in the can? Mickey sighed and dropped his bag on the couch, going straight for the fridge to look for a beer or some real food. “Hey, you’re home early, what-“ Mickey jumped and turned around. He didn’t think anyone was actually home. “Mickey?” Iggy was standing in the entry way of the kitchen, in nothing but boxers and messy hair. What was this guy doing sleep at almost five at night?

 

                “Hey, Igg,” Mickey laughed and turned back to grab one of the beers he’d found. He popped the tab and started chugging ( _fuck_ he missed real beer), and watched his brother for a minute, waiting for him to say or do something.

 

                “Wh-what are you doing here?”

 

                “Got out early. Gallagher’s bitch sister s'fuckin’ crazy so the case got thrown out, and so did I.” Iggy nodded and looked around the living room. He looked nervous, almost panicy, like despite this being Mickey’s house, he wasn’t supposed to be here.

 

                “You talk to Lana lately?” Even his tone seemed off and made it sound like he was on edge.

 

                “No, haven’t fuckin’ heard from anyone in fuckin’ years. No one but Mandy, so thanks, _bro,_ didn’t realize I was that much of an inconvenience.” Mickey burped loudly and slid his beer can on the counter behind him to cross his arms. Iggy just sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

 

                “Things have been crazy, man. You gotta talk to Svet, she’ll be home soon.” Mickey rolled his eyes. He’s gone for a couple years and suddenly the Russians have invaded; typical.

 

                “Where’s the kid?”

 

                “At school. Supposed to get picked up soon, actually-“

 

                “I’ll get him. Kinda miss the little fuck. Wish he would’ve came by more. Where’s the school?” Iggy looked even more uneasy now, but still nodded to the fridge.

 

                “One of those post-it-notes got all the info on it. But I don’t think-“

 

                “Good, no one fuckin’ asked you to,” Mickey bit back and turned to pull a note off the fridge. He shoved the pink, sticky paper in his pocket and walked by his brother to grab a sweater from his bag on the couch. Mandy had seemed weird, but she didn’t live in town, so maybe Iggy had seen Ian; he’d probably come by at least a few times to see what was going on. He had to know. “You, uh, you seen him around?” Iggy pulled his eyebrows down.

 

                “Who?”

 

                “Ian. He come by at all?” Iggy shifted on his feet oddly and refused to hold Mickey’s eye contact. _What the fuck was going on?_

 

                “You could say that,” he answered, coyly. Mickey knotted his brows and stared has his idiot brother. _What the fuck_? He must’ve caught on to his thoughts, because Iggy just shook his head. “Look, man, you really gotta talk to Svet. Shit’s changed around here, and I think she should be the one to tell you.” Mickey didn’t like whatever was going on here. He felt like there was some big secret going on that everyone apparently knew, but weren’t telling him. Something didn’t sit right in his stomach, and for once it wasn’t the prison food he’s been living off of.

 

                “Tell me what? Fuck's goin’ on, man?” Iggy only shook his head again and started heading back to his room.

 

                “I gotta shower and shit before work. Just- wait for Lana.” Mickey rolled his eyes again and went straight for the front door. He pulled the sticky note out of his pocket and started walking to the address on it. Why was everyone being so weird around him, and why was no one telling him anything about Ian? He found it hard to believe that Mandy hadn’t been keeping in contact with someone who was once her best friend, and even harder to believe that it sounded like _Iggy_ had seen more of Gallagher than her. This was all so fucking weird.

 

                Mickey shook the thoughts from his head and tried to just focus on Ian as he continued walking. He was out of prison, he was home; it was only a matter of time till he saw Ian now. Maybe he’d go by tomorrow to the Gallagher house and look for him. Was he still living there? What if he didn’t want to see him, though? He knew it was hard for him to see Mickey in prison, but maybe it would still be tough now. What if he was seeing someone else? No. No way. Ian and Mickey loved each other, there was no way Ian would be with someone else; Mickey wouldn’t believe that, either.

 

                He couldn’t see any reason for anything to be holding him and Ian back, unless the ginger just wasn’t here anymore. Maybe he had left town or something, and that was another reason why he hadn’t come to visit. Mickey had no clue what the hell had been going on while he was gone, and his brother and sister didn’t give him enough information to try to piece things together. For now, all he could do was pick his son up from school, and talk to the Russian bitch.

 

                About half an hour after he left his house, Mickey was finally arriving at the daycare. It looked small and a little run down, but still looked in better condition than most buildings in town. It was probably the only real daycare this side of Chicago, actually, if he thought about it. Even though it didn’t look brand spanking new, Mickey could still tell what kind of families took their kids to this school. When the hell did _they_ become one of those families? It was located in what was as close to a preppy neighborhood as you could get in this area, and there was a surprising number of rich assholes who lived around here. People who were 'slumming' it out in the grimy streets, but still liked to remind you they were better than you because they had some money. What they were doing out here if they were really so fuckin’ well do to, Mickey never knew or cared.

 

                Mickey tried to open the big glass door on the front of the brilliantly white building, but it wouldn’t budge, like it was locked or something. “What the fuck?” He tried a couple more times, but nothing. He strained to peer into the glass and noticed a few adults walking around. To get their attention, he began banging on the door, only knocking louder when no one heard him. He could see a few people, inside and out, staring at him now, and they all looked scared. Finally, a man from inside came up front and opened the door, only enough to poke his head out.

 

                “Can I help you, sir?” _Pompous asshole._

 

                “My kid goes here, I came to pick him up.” Mickey shuffled his feet and tried to look past the man, who looked younger than mickey, to see inside. The man furrowed his brows.

 

                “And, who’s dad are you?”

 

                “Yevgeny. Yevgeny Milkovich.” The man tilted his head in realization, but still kept his brows knotted.

 

                “Right, uh, well, we have to check a few things, but please, come wait inside, Mr. Milkovich.” The man stepped back and held the door open for Mickey. They were standing in what looked like a waiting room that held a hallway of rooms towards the back.

 

                “Why you got the doors locked? How the fuck’s anyone supposed to get in here?” The man’s eyes widened at the vulgar language and looked around the room for young ears.

 

                “We keep the doors locked for the safety of the children. There’s a bell on the door that you can ring to alert us you’re here, and we can buzz you in.” Mickey nodded and looked around the room some more. There were chairs and magazines and it was all a little too much like a doctor’s office to be a kid’s school. The man coughed awkwardly and began walking backwards toward the hallway. “If you just take a seat, there’s a few things I need to check before you can take Yevgeny home, I’ll be right back.” Mickey nodded and slid himself down into the closest chair with a heavy sigh.

 

                Mickey already hated this place and everyone that worked here. Sure, it was probably a good place for the kid, seeing as they kept things safe and was ran for the richer families, but he could still hate the place. It didn’t take long for the man to come back to the front room, frowning. “I’m sorry Mr. Milkovich, but I cannot release your son to you.” Mickey immediately stood up and pressed the man with the deepest scowl he could muster.

 

                “Excuse me? He’s my fuckin’ son. What the fuck do you mean you can’t-“

 

                “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the man said strongly. He took a step towards Mickey in an attempt to get him to back off, but Mickey just raised his eyebrows and stood his ground.

 

                “Why can’t I take _my_ kid home?” he asked through gritted teeth and crossed his arms under his chest. He knew he should probably keep as calm as he could, the last thing he needed was to get in a fight and get Yev kicked out or get himself locked back up for something dumb, but this was just bullshit.

 

                “Well, you’re not on his pickup list. Only people on the list are allowed to take him.”

 

                “Well who’s on the list?” How was it fair that he wasn’t allowed to pick up his fucking kid just because he wasn’t on some list?

 

                “His mother, Svetlana, his uncle, Iggy, and a family friend, Ian.” Everything in Mickey froze but also sped up. He dropped his arms and felt his face soften.

 

                “Ian? Ian Gallagher?” The man nodded. “Wh- uh…” he trailed off, not even knowing what to ask. He started looking around the room again as his mind was racing. He didn't know how long he stood there like an idiot, but the man was pulling him from his thoughts of Ian Gallagher and whatever was going on.

 

                “Sir? I’m sorry, but I do have to ask you to leave. You can’t be here unless you’re on Yevgeny’s drop-off, pickup, or visiting lists.” _God,_ this guy and his lists. He probably sits in his back office and jacks off onto a desk of lists, _the weird fuck_. Still; Mickey nodded and turned to leave, not having much fight left in him. This was a lot to take in. He pushed the door open and stepped outside, standing for a moment to collect his thoughts before beginning his trek back home.

 

                Ian was on some list to be allowed to pick up _his_ son? Why? Why was he on that list? Why was he still seeing Yevgeny? If Ian and Svetlana had some _thing_ going on here with _Mickey's_ son, why hadn’t any of them been making trips down to see Mickey in prison? Ian said he’d wait for him, and now it seemed like he did if he was still seeing Yev. This could be really good, actually. Any anger he felt for being kept out of the loop for three years completely left his body and was replaced with the thought of being with Ian again. Him and Svetlana must be on better terms now, so with Mickey being home, they could really go back to how things were before. They could be their own little family again.

 

                How long would it be till Mickey got to see Ian, now? He’d still go to Ian's house tomorrow to look for him, but what if he came by Mickey's house in the morning or something? Was he just living with them, if he was helping with the kid? Mickey bit back his smile at the thought of seeing Ian again. He’d thought about that moment practically every day in prison, and it was what kept him going. It was much easier to keep under the radar and not get into trouble when he knew the one person he loved was waiting for him somewhere. Mickey waited so long to get back to Ian Gallagher, he didn’t know if he’d actually be able to wait even a day to see him again. Things were going to be so good now that they could finally be back together.

 

                He sighed happily and finally entered his house. He was barely fully through the door when he saw Svetlana coming out of what he _thought_ was still his room. She looked up and froze the second she saw him. “You are back,” she said, just as hard to understand as always. “Why are you here?”

 

                “It’s my fucking house, bitch, why the fuck are _you_ here?” Svetlana shook her body lightly and headed into the kitchen to start making dinner.

 

                “Needed house for baby. Cannot live on street with baby because his dad fucks off to prison.”

 

                “He’s not a fuckin’ baby anymore, though, is he? Why the fuck is Ian’s name on his school list?” Svet kept her eyes away from Mickey’s vicinity while she dug through the cupboards for something to make tonight. She didn’t say anything, really trying to avoid this conversation. She didn’t think she’d ever have to explain to Mickey about the Ian situation, and especially not so soon.

 

                “Why are you here? You are not in prison anymore?” Mickey narrowed his eyes and stepped into the kitchen with folded arms.

 

                “It fuckin’ look like I’m in prison? I got out early because of that crazy birtch. Why is Ian on the kid’s list?” He didn’t want to sit around, skirting the subject, he’d had enough of that today. He wanted answers. Svetlana slammed a cupboard door and turned to stare down Mickey. He almost forgot how intimidating she could get, but he was never scared of her, even now.

 

                “World does not stop when you fuck up. Children still grow, adults still work. I am single mother who works at bar. Cannot be done alone. I try, many times. You left. You did not care enough about family to not do stupid shit, we could not wait. Carrot boy helps. He does what you should have and he does it better.” Mickey felt his heart racing. So, Ian was, what, Yevgeny’s replacement dad? He felt like shit that he inadvertently he pushed his problems onto Ian. That wasn’t fair. He lowered his arms but continued to frown.

 

                “He helps out?” Svet felt like she had already said more than she probably should’ve. She knew how Ian felt about Mickey, and didn’t think he’d be too pleased with any of this. She really didn’t think he’d react well when he come back tonight to find Mickey standing in the house. She had to figure out what to do, and quick.

 

                “I do not have time for this, I have house to run.” She pushed passed Mickey, leaving him gaping in the kitchen, and headed down the hallway to one of the back rooms. She busted through Iggy’s room and looked around in the darkness. The floor was covered in clothes and trash, and the air was dank and stale. Iggy looked behind him from where he stood by his dresser, half clothed in his security uniform. “We have problem.”

 

                “Yeah we do. We’re out of fuckin’ Pop Tarts, and no one’s been to the store this week.” He turned back to pull on a white a-shirt.

 

                “No, you dumb fuck, your brother.”

 

                “Oh, yeah. Mick’s back. He ask you about Ian, too?” Svetlana nodded when he turned back around again, buttoning his black shirt. “Blyad’,” he cursed, “what the hell are we goin’ do?” Svetlana shrugged where she stood and looked up to think.

 

                “He will be here soon with Yev, they cannot see each other, not with detka here, there will be fight.” Iggy shook his head while he dug under his bed for his shoes.

 

                “You gotta stop callin’ him a baby, Lana, he’s not a baby anymore.”

 

                “Not the point,” she sighed. Couldn’t Iggy just focus for once. “We need plan.” Iggy nodded and sat on his bed.

 

                “Well let’s make it quick.”

 

                Mickey stared at the spot where Svetlana had been standing before disappearing into the hallway. He huffed and walked into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch. This was so fuckin’ weird. He dug through his bag to look for his cigarettes, pulling one out and lighting it. _Fuck that was good_. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch while he sucked down more smoke. So, Ian was pretty deeply involved with the family? He had stepped up to the plate to help Mickey's son and wife when he wasn’t there. Ian really was a better man than he. _Okay_ , so maybe he had been _burdened_ with this life, and he probably hated that, but it still made things easier for Micckey.

 

                If he was already coming over to help take care of Yev, they’d be able to do it together. He thought back to years ago, when they were living here together. They had a good thing going for a little bit, with them and Svet taking care of Yev. They were happy and peaceful, until things went bad with Ian. How was he now with all of that? Had he finally started taking his meds or was he having trouble with his bipolar still? He must be doing somewhat good if Svetlana was okay with him being around Yevgeny again. Mickey had so many questions and just fucking wished someone would answer them.

 

                The faint, muffled sounds of talking brought Mickey back to reality. He lifted his head to stub out his cigarette, and looked towards the front door where the noise was coming from. He could hear talking and laughing, and he was confused. “If you go get your mom, I’ll take us for ice cream,” he just barely heard through the door. He only just had the chance to connect that bright, familiar voice to a face when the door opened to answer his question. Ian and Yevgeny stepped into the house, both breathless from laughing. Yevgeny ran into the house, and Mickey jumped up from the couch. The little kid immediately froze and ran back to Ian, hiding behind his legs. Ian was facing away from the living room, closing the front door and hanging a child’s backpack on a hook by the door.

 

                “Morkov’, who is that?” Yev whispered. Ian turned around and instantly made eye contact with Mickey, his smile dropping. Mickey’s breathing stopped right on sight. No amount of dreaming about seeing Ian again could ever truly prepare him for the real thing. The past three years have been good to Ian Gallagher. His hair was less red in this light and looked more ginger, like a copper. He looked like his muscles were more bulked up and his face looked pale like it always had, but not sickly. He looked good and thriving. Healthy looked so fucking good on Ian, if that’s what this was. Neither man had yet to say anything or break the eye contact, but they had a similar facial expression.

 

                Both their eyes were wide bright, both their lips were parted, jaws threatening to drop. The only difference between their faces was that while Mickey’s held love, hope, and relief, Ian’s held distress and panic. From behind where he stood, Mickey could hear Svetlana and Iggy enter the room, tension filling the room by the second.

 

                “Looks like our plan s’already fucked,” Iggy said to Svetlana, quietly. The two surveyed the situation, but neither dared to make a move. Yevgeny ran out from behind Ian to his mother when he caught sight of her, who bent down to pick him up.

 

                “Mamochka, who is he?” Svet hushed her son and backed up into the kitchen to get out of the direct line of any possible fire that was about to start flying. Mickey decided he couldn’t hold off anymore, and took a step around the couch to get closer to Ian, holding out his hand like he wanted to grab him, which he did.

 

                “Ian-“ he started, breathlessly, but was cut off.

 

                “I gotta go, Svet, sorry I can’t stay,” Ian rushed, looking past Mickey, trying his hardest to pretend he wasn’t even in the room. Ian tried to keep his voice even but he could feel it threatening to falter with panic. He couldn’t do this, not now, probably not ever. What the fuck was Mickey doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be here. Svet came back into the room, holding a scared Yev, and walked right past Mickey to talk to Ian.

 

                “You do not have-“

 

                “Yeah, I do, Lana, sorry,” he looked down to Yev, into his sad blue eyes, and spoke to him. “It’s gonna be okay, krolik, he won’t hurt you, okay? You’re safe. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He bent down to kiss the boy on the top of his head and all but ran out of the house. He hopped down the steps as fast as he could to get to the sidewalk.

 

                Mickey turned to look at Svetlana, who was now in the kitchen, sitting Yevgeny at the table with paper and crayons, hoping to distract the child from the, still, inevitable fight, and headed back to the stove to actually start dinner now. “What the fuck’s been going on, Svet? Why did he bolt out like that?” He followed the women into the kitchen, hoping for answers. After three years, that wasn’t exactly the welcoming Mickey'd been expecting. Maybe he just caught Ian off guard is all.

 

                “He does not want to see you,” she said harshly. Everything in Mickey ran icy cold. _No_ , that couldn't be right. Why would Ian not want to see Mickey? He thought everything was going to be okay and go back to normal, but something was obviously not right.

 

                “Why the fuck not?” Mickey's cold veins slowly warmed up, transferring boiling blood through his body in his anger. He didn’t know if he was more sad or mad but he was unhappy as fuck, that was for sure. Svet made no real move to say anything, just stared back at her newly returned husband. She was scared of what would happen if she spilled the beans, but was also scared of what would happen if she didn’t. She knew Mickey and what he was capable of, especially if he was provoked. She still didn’t think she was ready to have this argument. Not with Yevgeny sitting right at the table, staring at Mickey’s back. “You better start fucking talkin’.”

 

                “Not now,” she finally let out and turned back to the warming stove. “I feed detka. Put him to bed. Then we talk.” Mickey narrowed his eyes at the back of Svet’s head, but snapped it back to the dining table at the sound of a small voice.

 

                “I’m not a baby, mamochka, I’m a big kid,” Yevgeny spoke up, looking back down at the table quickly the second he saw Mickey staring. _Fuckin’ Russians._ He rolled his eyes and stomped off to his room, but froze seeing his space had been invaded by Svetlana. This was all too fucking much. Today was supposed to be a joyous day for him, where he was a free man and got to reunite with his guy. How the fuck did he get here?

 

                “I want my fuckin’ room back,” he shouted and slammed the bedroom door.

 

                Ian stopped for a minute on the sidewalk to try to catch his breath. _What the fuck was going on?_ This was bad, _so bad_. He’d been doing so good, everything in his life was just perfect, and now Mickey had to come back to fuck everything up? He heard the Milkovich house’s door open and began walking again, not even turning around to see who it was.

 

                “Ian! Hey, Ian, stop for a sec!” Ian sighed and turned around to wait for Iggy to catch up to him. He should’ve figured. “You okay, man?” Ian laughed darkly and shook his head.

 

                “Fuck no, Igg. What the hell is he doing here? He’s supposed to be in fucking _prison._ ” Iggy nodded and lifted his hands to calm Ian as best he could. It didn’t do much, though, for Ian was already shaking with wide, wild eyes.

 

                “I know. Him and Lana were telling me that he got out early. Apparently your sister is fuckin’ insane so the case got thrown out or some shit-“

 

                “You guys knew?” Now anger and betrayal were being added into the dangerous cocktail of emotions coursing through Ian's body. Iggy shook his head quickly.

 

                “No, no- well yeah, but just found out today. He showed up earlier when I was getting up for work, but left to go get Yev, and then came back and talked to Lana-“

 

                “He tried to get Yev?”

 

                “Yeah. I tried to tell him not to, to just stay here and wait for Lana so she could explain, but he doesn’t fucking listen for shit, you know that.” Ian nodded and looked around the street. His heart was pounding and he knew he was sweating up a storm. Why did this have to be happening to him? Couldn’t things just go his way for once? After everything he’s had to deal with, especially when it came to Mickey, couldn’t the universe just give him a break for once? Ian sighed and looked back to Iggy.

 

                “I can’t fucking be here anymore. I can’t come back. I’m-I’m stable and shit.” He pointed to the house, “this isn’t me anymore. None of that is. What fucking happens when he tries to get me to do some crazy shit and I lose my damn mind and my meds are useless? I can’t be here anymore. I can’t do this shit anymore.” He was shaking even more and just staring at the ground. He was so scared. This couldn't happen to him.

 

                “What about Yev, man?” Ian closed his eyes to fight off the tears that were threatening to spill. _Fuck_. It didn’t matter what happened between him and Mickey, or what would happen; he couldn’t do that to Yev. The two have grown so attached to each other, what were either of them supposed to do without the other? He’d have to stay around, if only for Yev. He sighed and looked back up to Iggy.

 

                “I gotta go. I’ll still come by in the morning to get him to school, but I won’t be hanging around. Probably won’t be around as much, unless I absolutely have to. I’m not leaving. I can’t leave Yev. I’m still here and apart of this, just gotta stay away from _him_.” Iggy nodded and Ian was grateful he left it at that.

 

                “Want me to come with you? This is heavy shit, you know? You shouldn’t have to be alone. I don’t want you to do something fuckin’ stupid.” Ian shook his head and smiled. Thank God for Iggy always looking out. The Milkovich had become protective over Ian when he started coming around more and they became close. He knew about everything with Ian and Mickey and his bipolar and all of that, having witnessed a lot of it, and Iggy never judged him, never cared about the shit he did in his past, manic or otherwise, and Ian was grateful for that. Everyone was always telling him what he should and shouldn’t be doing, and making him feel bad for his mistakes, but never Iggy.

 

                “Nah, man. Thanks. Really. You got work. It’s a lot, but I’ll be okay. I’ll probably just go home and sleep. I won’t do anything dumb, promise. And I’ll call you if I think I will.” Iggy smiled back and pulled Ian in for a quick one-armed-hug, clapping his back on the release.

 

                “We’ll figure this shit out. Always do.”

 

                “Always do,” Ian repeated quietly with a tight-lipped smile. He watched Iggy turn back and head inside the house. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began walking home as he scrolled though his contacts. He continued walking until the ringing stopped, and a voice clicked through.

 

                “Ian?” He smiled at the soothing voice.

 

 

⁂

 

 

 

                “So, why are you _really_ in town?” Ian asked as he sat down at the café table. Mandy squirmed in her chair and looked down to the coffee she already had in front of her.

 

                “Well, hi to you too, dickhead.”

 

                “No, I asked you like three times on the phone, and you still haven’t answered.” Mandy scrunched her nose up in that typical Milkovich manner. She knew it would behoove her to just come out with it and tell Ian everything (once upon a time they _were_ best friends, and that had to still mean something, even if they only talked a couple times a month), but she didn’t know how he’d take it that she talks to her brother just as much as she talks to him. She opened her mouth, but the waitress came by to give Ian the drink he ordered when he came in, so she picked up her own coffee and began chugging. It didn’t give her the confidence that a whiskey could've done, but you gotta work with what you got. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for backlash but grateful for being in the public eye; he wouldn’t kill her right here with so many witnesses.

 

                “I, uh, well, I picked him up. From prison. I brought him home.” Mandy slowly lifted her cautious gaze up across the table to her friend. Ian was frozen where he sat. He had his coffee cup half way to his mouth, which was hanging open, initially to take a sip of his coffee, but inevitably left dropped by the news. His eyes were wide but dark, and his heart was pounding. Was he the only person who didn’t know? He knows Iggy says him and Lana had no idea, but what if they all did, and he just said that to not upset Ian?

 

                “You knew he was back?” he croaked. He hated how weak he sounded, so he cleared his throat and lowered his drink back to the table. Mandy nodded slowly. “How? Did he call you or what?” He didn’t mean to sound so defensive, but he needed to know if this was a surprise thing like it was for him, or if people really were in on all of this, and why. Mandy looked around the coffee shop for a second, avoiding any eye contact with the ginger staring her down, but eventually just looked back at him.

 

                “Yeah, he did. Well, okay, we’ve actually been talking the whole time he’s been locked up.” Everything in Ian immediately shattered. He knew maybe he shouldn’t be so offended, because they were family, but he really thought Mandy was on his side, when, in reality, she’s been some sort of double agent.

 

                “What the fuck, Mandy,” he hissed, standing from the table. He couldn’t do this, not here and not now. He’s already had a shitty day, he really didn’t want to fight with his friend in the middle of a quiet coffee shop. Mandy stood up, too, and pulled Ian back by his arm, pointing him with a hard look.

 

                “Just sit the fuck down, okay? It’s not as bad as you think.” Ian glared right back at her, but gave in. He slowly lowered himself back into hid seat, still scowling, with his arms crossed. Mandy sat back down in her own chair and sighed. “When he first got locked up, no one was talking to him or anything. He had called me one time to tell me what happened and where to get ahold of him and shit, and a couple months later I called back to see how he was doing. And he was doing shitty.” Ian rolled his eyes. She may not have meant it, but it really did feel like she was trying to get him to pity Mickey. _Fat fucking chance_. “No one ever called him. Svetlana stopped coming to see him with Yevgeny, the bitch-“

 

                “Don’t fucking talk about her like that, Mandy,” Ian bit. “I get you have your problems with her, but she’s a different person then she was before. She’s a good mom and she does what she has to. You think she really wanted to take her _baby_ to a prison to see some man he didn't understand was his fucking dad?”

 

                “Good for fucking her, I still don’t like her, and he’s Mickey’s fucking kid, too.” Ian shook his head and huffed.

 

                “Whatever, just- no one was talking to him?” he prompted her. He didn’t really want to continue this conversation, but he’d rather half listen to Mickey’s sob story than hear Mandy bitch about Svet. She nodded and continued talking.

 

                “Yeah, so no one ever called or visited, not even Iggy I guess. And, he was just having a really hard time with that. He just wanted someone to talk to him, mostly you-”

 

                “Oh, poor fucking Mickey. He gets himself locked up in prison for the attempted murder of my _sister_ , and is seriously gonna play the victim here? Why doesn’t he just fucking-“

 

                “Jesus Christ, Ian. You know he didn't try to fuckin' kill her. And quick acting like you care about her. Just let me fucking talk.” Ian rolled his eyes before closing them, and waited for her to continue. “So, I kept calling and we wrote sometimes. He’s my _brother_ , Ian. I felt bad and I honestly missed him. I hadn’t seen him since even before all the shit with your sister. And, he told me he was getting out and asked-“

 

                “Yeah, why the fuck is he out? He had so much time left, what the hell happened?”

 

                “I guess your sister was acting out or some shit where she was locked up, and apparently she’s fucking crazy, like, actually. They did tests and shit. They decided nothing she said in court or anything was true so they dismissed the case. She’s locked up in some metal institution for crazy killers and shit, and Mickey got out. He asked if I’d come get him since he didn’t think any of you would. But, I never tell him about you. He asks, all the fucking time, it’s annoying as fuck, actually, but I keep my mouth shut. I’m not a fucking idiot, Ian, I wasn’t gonna run my mouth about what you’ve been doing. He has no idea.” Ian pursed his lips and nodded in thought. At least Mickey didn’t know his shit.

 

                “Thanks, I guess. I don’t need him knowing that shit.” He dropped his arms and ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck,” he sighed.

 

                “So, he’s back. What happened?”

 

                “I came by to drop Yev off from school, which, by the way, he definitely tried to pick him up, and he was there. Scared the shit outta the kid, too. He doesn’t know who the fuck Mickey is, and that’s not his fault. Mickey wanted nothing to do with him for the longest fucking time, and then he got _himself_ locked up in _prison._ Lana had to protect him.” Mandy may have had a few choice words to say about those statements, because fuck that, but she didn’t need more reasons to fight right now, so she nodded instead. Ian sighed again. Mandy felt terrible for this whole situation.

 

                “What are you gonna do? Gonna stop helping out and shit?” Ian shook his head. He didn’t have a plan yet for what he was going to do about Mickey, but he knew he wasn’t going to leave Yev. He already decided that when he briefly talked to Iggy. Staying around and trudging up the shit that comes with associating with Mickey Milkovich would be easy if only to keep Yev happy and healthy.

 

                “No, I can’t leave Yev like that. Not anymore. Maybe if it was still that first year, but it’s too late now. I can’t be out of his life. I don’t know what I’ll do about Mickey, though. Just ignore him, I guess. Pretend he’s not there, ya know?” It wasn’t the best plan, but it was all he had.

 

                “Real mature, huh?” She offered a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

 

                “Okay, fuck off,” he laughed lightly, “I just don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit he’s got to say, and I sure as hell don’t have anything to say to him. I don’t want to be in his life anymore. I’m not that person. I’ve got my life together, ya know? I got my GED and finally promoted to paramedic, I haven’t had a serious problem with my bipolar since all this happened. Everything’s so fucking good, and it was only gonna get better.”

 

                “What do you mean?” Mandy sat back in her chair, pulling her cooling coffee into her lap. Ian looked down at the table in guilt. He hadn’t told Mandy about his plan to move the ‘family’ out and into their own house. He hadn’t told anyone, really. Only Svet and Iggy; not even Yev. He didn’t want to instill too much hope in the kid, in case things didn’t work out, because he knew all too well what that was like. He almost wanted to keep it their little secret, and the more people outside of their circle that he told, the more people he knew would tell him how bad an idea it was. Everyone had such a hard time understanding why Ian helped out around the Milkovich house, why he turned himself into one of the cogs that kept things running properly and putting it upon himself to help raise a child he really has no connection to, so he can only imagine what they’d say if he told them his plans to buy a whole house for them and live with them permanently.

 

                Still, Mandy knew a good portion of what’s been going on in his life, so why shouldn’t she know this? For the most part, she kept her opposing opinions to herself, unless she really did feel like he was being his old, compulsive, idiotic self. He sighed, again. “It’s really fucking hard to be in that house, ya know? For all of us. Sure, there’s good memories, but for me, some of those hurt just as bad. I don’t plan on living at my house forever. I fucking hate it there right now. I love my family, sure, but they’re hardly ever there. It’s just Fiona, really, and you know what she’s like. She’s just getting so annoying with shit lately. Every time we’re in the same room, she starts going off about how I’m ruining my life and should let Lana take care of her own shit.

 

                “And I just can’t do that, ya know? She needs help, and I’m around. I’m not gonna leave a broken, pretty fucked up family on their own if I can help them. So, I’m gonna buy us a house. Gonna get us all out.” He hoped maybe rambling a bit before just spitting it out was going to help his case. He should’ve known better.

 

                “What?” Mandy sat forward, knitting her brows.

 

                “I just can’t keep going like this, Mands. That house was the last string connecting me to all that shit I’ve finally gotten over. And now that he’s actually fucking back, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to keep going over there and pretending everything’s okay. If I get us out and get our own house, I can help out better, things will be easier, and I’ll be happier. That’s what everyone keeps complaining about. That I won’t be happy with all of this. But these past three years have been the happiest for me, everything’s good.”

 

                Mandy nodded mindlessly along with his words. She could relate to getting out of the house; she certainly left the minute she got the opportunity. She knew what it was like to live in that house. Even when you were home alone, it felt like someone was watching you, waiting for you to fuck up. The walls held ghosts and demons who knew your secrets and would scream them out to remind you of that fact. Wallpaper would peel back to reveal glowing eyes, like wolves hiding in bushes, and long, scratching fingers. Always watching, always ready to grab you and pull you back, keeping you forever hostage. It was no place for someone to live and thrive, especially a child. She did it, her brothers did, and look at them. She got it. She understood.

 

                “Yeah. That fucking house,” she breathed. Ian exhaled with relief. He knew Mandy wasn’t completely on board, but she understood, and that’s all he wanted. “So, you gonna give him the silent treatment until you can all leave? Just let him wake up one day to an empty house ‘cause you left in the middle of the night?”

 

                “Mandy, come on. I know it’s a shitty thing, but this is me starting my own life. I don’t want him in my life. Lana doesn’t want him in her life. Yev doesn’t know better, and if Mickey really wanted to be a part of his life, he could do that on his own time."

 

                “I mean, it sounds like you got yourself a plan.” Mandy took a long drink of her cold coffee. She wished she could do more to help both her friend and her brother, but she really couldn’t do much for either of them, let alone both of them. All she could do, and all that she has done, is be there to listen to both of them when they called to complain. She stretched her arms and yawned. She didn’t want to leave Ian, not now, but it was getting late, and she still had to get back to New York at some point. She smiled sadly at Ian and felt her heart ache. “I gotta head out. Got work and shit I gotta take care of.” Ian nodded and stood up, coming around the small table to hug Mandy.

 

                “Come visit again, for more than just picking family up from jail,” he said lightly. Mandy laughed into his shoulder and held him tightly. “Call me when you get back, whenever you’re free,” he said when they pulled back.

 

                “You call me when shit starts goin’ down with you and the missus,” Mandy laughed. Ian narrowed his eyes and pinched her arm quickly, ducking out of the way before she could smack him back. She bent down to grab her things and the two headed to the door. They hugged quickly one more time out on the sidewalk, saying their last goodbyes for now. “The life of Ian Gallagher,” she joked over her shoulder when she walked away to her car. He laughed and shook his head. _Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth?_

 

 

 

 

⁂

 

 

 

 

                Mickey sat at the dining table with his fourth cigarette in one hand and his third beer in the other. His right leg was shaking under the table with all of his fears and anxieties taking over. His mind and his heart in a race to see which could run the fastest, and he was sure he was about to drop dead on the table because they’d both push right out of his body. He couldn’t keep his thoughts straight, and felt like everything that had been keeping him going the past three years was all tore down, and he was left exposed, feeling lied to and helpless.

 

                Svetlana had gone into one of the back rooms about half an hour ago with Yevgeny to lay him down, but it felt like an eternity. From the time that Ian left to when Svet picked the kid up from the table to go to bed, Mickey paced around the house. He couldn’t get his head to stop running around with ideas and concerns, and he couldn’t get his body to just stop moving and sit still. His fingernails were all but nonexistent anymore, and he probably wore down the soles of his shoes, but he just couldn’t stop. He needed to know what was going on.

 

                Finally, Svetlana stepped out of the hallway, taking quiet steps. Mickey stubbed out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, and sat up in the old chair. He watched her walk right passed where he was sat, into the kitchen to grab her own beer from the fridge. She sat down across from Mickey, lit a cigarette, and stared back at him. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the tension and anxiety surrounding the table rising by the second. He couldn’t take it anymore. “You gonna start fuckin’ talkin’ now?”

 

                “I do not have things to say,” she stated. She really shouldn’t have been put in the position to talk to Mickey about Ian, but knew Ian wouldn’t do it himself, and didn’t want to deal with how Mickey would act if he didn’t get any information.

 

                “The fuck you don’t. What the hell’s been going on while I was gone?” Svetlana shrugged while she pulled a deep drag.

 

                “Life. Shit. What else?”

 

                “And where the fuck does Ian fit into all of that shit?” He waved his hand in front of him.

 

                “We needed help. He helps. He does good for himself and us.”

 

                “How’s he doin’ good for himself?” Now he was mad at himself. He wanted to be hurt and torn apart, and, he was, but now he felt a sense of pride, which felt alien in his body; pride being something he couldn’t honestly remember the last time he truly felt it (besides for his sister earlier that day, but could almost guarantee it was rooted from Ian then. Svetlana waved her own hand, gesturing ‘this and that’.

 

                “He has good job, he takes pills, he is happy.” _Really_?

 

                “He takes his meds?” Svetlana nodded. “When? When did he start that? What fuckin’ changed?”

 

                “Detka,” she said simply. Mickey just shook his head lamely.

 

                “Fuckin’ English, come on.” She leaned forward over the table, narrowing her eyes.

 

                “Baby. Yevgeny. He change for baby.” Mickey’s blood ran cold. Ian really was on his meds then? And if it was Yevgeny’s doing, he probably had been for a long time now. He had tried so hard to not only get Ian to take his meds, but to stay on them, and it was no easy feat. If he’s been stable on his meds for this long, he’s probably given himself time to adjust to them, too. So, Ian didn’t feel shitty all the time anymore, he actually felt nice and normal. He knew how bad Ian wanted that. Mickey had spent many nights in his (literal and metaphoric) prison cell wondering how Ian was dealing with his disease, and would worry himself sick with the ideas that maybe he ran off again and got himself into more trouble. It was unlikely anyone would look for him if he did, and whenever he asked Mandy if she’d seen or heard anything she always said she hadn’t.

 

                Hearing that Ian was happy and apparently healthy was nice. It did make him feel warm and fuzzy inside, but it hurt still. Not only had he not been around to see Ian blossom like this, but maybe it wouldn’t have happened if he had been. What if Mickey had been holding Ian back? What if Ian could’ve gotten better years ago, but somehow Mickey was stopping it, even if he didn’t know, even if he thought he was doing the right thing? He still just wanted to know more. “Got a job, too? What s’he do?”

 

                “Paramedic. Drives around town helping other dumb fucks.” Mickey bit his lip and thought for a moment. He could leave it at this, or he could press his luck and ask for more information. He should leave it. Anything else he wanted to ask about would probably just cause him pain.

 

                “He seein’ anyone” he asked quietly. _Well, shit_. Svetlana tilted her head back and leaned further into her chair. Any heat that Mickey had held for the past two or so hours, since Ian ran off, was gone. Now he just looked hurt and sad and kind of pathetic. Everyone had seemed to move on, why wouldn’t Mickey?

 

                “You talk to him. Not my business.” Mickey raised his eyebrows because when the fuck did the Russian whore start caring about privacy? That probably meant _yes_.

 

                “Oh, you his fuckin’ secret keeper now? When’s he comin’ back?” Svetlana steadied her face and kept it level. She couldn’t give her thoughts away. She wanted to keep Mickey away from Ian but knew they were bond to run into each other; she couldn’t keep them apart forever. There wasn’t much she could do, but let Ian take care of things himself, only he knew what he’d want to do, and he’s probably the only one Mickey would listen to when he says he doesn’t want to see him.

 

                “In the morning, for school,” she said quietly, nudging her head in the direction of where Yevgeny was sleeping. She stood up from the table, but only leaned in closer to Mickey’s face, enough to put him on edge and pull back a bit. “Do not hurt orange boy,” she started darkly, “do not hurt detka. If you fuck up, I will cut your fucking malen'kiy chlen off, and shove it so far up your zhopa, you will not know you left prison, you malen'kaya nizhnyaya suka. Do not fuck with my sem'ya.” She slowly pulled back and stared at Mickey, who just swallowed with wide eyes. He may not have understood a damn word Svetlana just said, but that almost scared him more. She got the point across, and he knew better than to fuck with her. He pulled himself together, not wanting the threat to seem like it had done its job as well as it had, and walked towards the couch.

 

                “Fuck you, and your Russian ass,” he said, with not as much heat as it could’ve held. Svet closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A fight right now would only wake up Yev, and she didn’t need that right now. She gave one more look toward Mickey and snarled.

 

                “Krichashchaya suka,” she snorted under her breath before turning away, and entering her bedroom. Mickey rolled his eyes to himself for the tenth time that day.

 

                “Fucking bitch,” he murmured under his breath. He sighed and laid himself onto the old, lumpy couch, which, oddly enough, smelled like Ian; he'd never forget that scent. _Fuck._ His first night back into civilization, and he was sleeping on the couch because Svet wouldn’t give up the bedroom, at least not yet, and all the other free rooms in the house were too cluttered with everyone’s forgotten junk, including all of his own possessions, to make it a livable space. He’d be out on the couch for fuck knows how long, but, still, it was better than a prison cell.

 

                Mickey laid on the couch for more than an hour, just staring at the dark ceiling above him. He missed Ian so fucking much, and he had kind of thought he’d get to spend his first night back in bed with him. He missed his warmth and presence, and he _definitely_ missed fucking him. The feel of his hands, the smell of his skin, the dark color of his eyes right in the thick of everything. Mickey bit his lip and lifted his head to look back down the hall, making sure all the doors were closed. Iggy was gone for the night, working, and wouldn’t be back till morning. Svetlana may not be totally asleep, but he could almost guarantee that she wouldn’t be leaving the room till morning. He knew how to be quiet when he needed to be; something you learn being a closeted gay guy in Southside.

 

                “Fuck,” he cursed to himself and licked the palm of his hand generously. He slid his hand into his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down a bit to give him more space, and pressed further into the couch. He gripped himself firmly and let out a soft gasp as he began stroking himself. He thought about Ian. About fire red hair and star-like freckles. Big hands holding him close and tight, roaming down his sides, pulling his hair, grabbing his ass. Big, goofy mouth all over; on his lips, his neck, his chest, his thighs, his dick. Mickey bucked his hips slightly as he quickened his pace. He could hear Ian in his ear, whispering and moaning and almost screaming.

 

                Mickey's eyes tightened, clenching them closed, and his whole body warmed. He turned his head to bury his nose in the back cushion, inhaling Ian’s faint but present scent. In the moment, he could pretend that Ian was really here; he swore he could feel the ginger man taking over all of his senses, and just wanted to wrap his arms around him and hold him closer. He wanted to kiss Ian. He wanted to tell Ian he loved him, still loved him, would always love him. “I-Ian,” he stuttered obscenely quiet, feeling himself edge closer to orgasming, even still moving his hand faster. When he finally did cum, it was with the image of Ian front and center, and his name mouthed into Mickey’s free arm where he was biting into to try to stay quiet. He laid motionless on the couch, with his hand still down his pants, the only movement being his chest raising and falling.

 

                Mickey eventually pulled his hand out when he caught his breath, and wiped it on his jeans. He was way too tired to try to clean himself up right now or change his clothes, so he just pulled his pants back up and rolled over, facing the back of the couch. Mickey still couldn’t get Ian out of his head, and ended up falling sleep to the thought, and smell, of him. He couldn’t wait until the redhead would come back in the morning, and he could actually talk to him. He needed his guy back, he didn’t think he could wait much longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian to English Translations
> 
> Zaychik - Bunny
> 
> Strashnyy chelovek - Scary man
> 
> Sidet' - Sit
> 
> Radi tebya - For fuck's sake
> 
> Zatkni's - Shut up
> 
> Problema - Problem
> 
> Grebanyy sd - Fucking hell
> 
> Kozel - Goat

**_ Chapter Three _ **

 

 

 

 

               The pounding of the front door woke Mickey up bright and early the next morning, which was annoying because: one; it was certainly too fucking early to be awake and two; he could count the number of times anyone’s ever knocked on their door on one hand. He waited for someone else to open the door, but fuck everyone else in the house for making him have to get up. “Okay, okay, fucking calm down,” he shouted to the knocker as he stood up from the couch. He stretched a bit, and looked down at his jeans, the obscene, dried cum stain catching his eye. _Fucking slob_. He hoped it wasn’t too noticeable, or at least that whoever was behind the door wouldn’t have to look that low on his body to see it in the first place. He pulled the door open and instantly froze where he stood, hand still on the door knob.

 

               Ian was standing on the front porch, just as frozen and shocked as Mickey. The two looked almost identical in the moment, but their insides were polar opposites. Mickey was completely buzzing again, suddenly wide awake. He was warm and felt like he was flying. He’d waited so long to see Ian again, and here he was, so close Mickey could just reach out and touch him; pull him in the house and hug and kiss him. They had a lot of lost time to make up for, and Mickey planned on starting immediately. Ian, on the other hand, felt like he was living in slow motion all the sudden. He felt ice cold and like he was bringing dragged down by his feet to the pits of Hell, right through the unsteady porch below him. Ian knew he’d be running into Mickey, it was inevitable, and there was no getting away from it, but he wasn’t expecting him to open the fucking door first thing in the morning, the _day_ after his release.

 

               Mickey slowly smiled, feeling everything coming together, and stepped aside to let Ian in. “Hey, man,” he greeted, just above a whisper. Ian didn’t say anything, and when he finally got the feeling back in his legs, he walked into the house, not looking at Mickey at all. Maybe Ian didn’t hear him? He _had_ spoken so quietly. Mickey coughed and closed the door, following Ian, who was hightailing it to the kitchen. He thought it best to try again. “Been a while, huh? Fuckin’ missed ya-“

 

               “Don’t fucking start,” Ian said lowly, through gritted teeth. He didn’t turn around fully, but just enough for Mickey to hear him. And, he did. Now it was Mickey who ran cold.

 

               “Wha-“

 

               “Look, I’m here to pick up Yevgeny, and that’s it. You don’t have to worry about fucking seeing me, I won’t be around. And when I am, it’s for Yev, and that’s it. Nothing else. No one else.” Ian fully turned around now, still not looking at Mickey, and left the kitchen, going straight into Lana’s bedroom, ignoring Mickey calling back for him.

 

               Mickey stood starring at the closed door of _his_ fucking room. He was going to throw all Svet’s shit out and take it back while they were gone today, because fuck sleeping on the couch another night. But, what the fuck had just happened? Why wasn’t Ian happy to see him? Why was he basically telling him he wouldn’t be coming by to see him? This was all fucked and not how it was supposed to be. Was Ian really happier with Mickey out of his life? Maybe he really was seeing someone, someone he loved more than he’d ever loved Mickey. But, how was he supposed to know? He had to get in a real conversation with Ian and figure this shit out.

 

               Svetlana’s voice rang in Mickey’s head; _he does not want to see you._ What if that was really true, and Ian would never lighten up on him again? What was Mickey supposed to do if Ian just never wanted anything to do with him anymore? There was no way, Mickey thought, this was just temporary.

 

               Ian closed and locked the bedroom door behind him, and tried to catch his breath. He wasn’t going to make it to next week if this shit kept happening. At the same time he entered the room, Yev and Lana were coming out of the bathroom after Yev’s morning bath. “Morkov’!” Yev yelled when he caught sight of Ian leaning against the door. He ran to him with open arms, embracing him tightly around his legs. Ian reached down to rub the boy’s back and instantly felt calmed.

 

               “Morning, rabbit. How was your night?” Yev pulled away from Ian and let his mother drag him to her bed, where his clothes were laid out, to finish getting him ready for school.

 

               “It was okay, the weird guy didn’t leave. Is he still here?” Svetlana turned around to give Ian an amused but apologetic smile, which he returned, just as tight lipped. He sighed and scratched his cheek, moving to sit on the other side of Svet’s bed.

 

               “Yeah, unfortunately, the weird guy _is_ still here.” Yev scrunched his nose. _Damn Milkovichs._

               “Mom said he’s my dad, but I don’t believe her. He doesn’t talk to me. Don’t dads talk to you?” _This poor, innocent, naïve, fucking kid._

 

               “Ah, I don’t know much about what dads are supposed to do. He’s-“ Ian sighed. He really didn’t want to fucking do this; defend Mickey. But, he felt he had to. Yev didn’t know any better, so he should know the truth. Ian wished someone would’ve been around to tell him the truth when he was Yev’s age. “He’s not that bad.” This caught the attention of both Yev and Svet. “He actually really cared about you, krolik, and I bet he still does. He doesn’t just turn that on and off. He’s just bad at showing it sometimes.  If he cares about you, he always will.” Ian shook his head, and added to himself, “really fucking annoying, actually.”

 

               “You think he’ll want to play with me?” All Ian could do was nodded softly. “But, will you still play with me, too?” Ian stood up and moved to sit next to Yev, Svetlana standing up from where she was putting on his shoes.

 

               “Of course. I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay? If you wanna play with him, you can, and if you don’t, that’s okay, too. But I’ll be here either way.” Yev nodded and pursed his lips like he’d seen adults do when they were thinking something over.

 

               “I don’t think I wanna play with him. He’s still scary.” Ian laughed and nodded. He lifted his right arm and draped it over the small boy, pulling him into his side to kiss his head.

 

               “Yeah he is.”

 

               “Zaychik, go out now, have strashnyy chelovek make you breakfast. Time he learned fatherly responsibilities,” Svetlana spoke authoritatively. Yev jumped off the bed and ran to the bedroom door, struggling with the lock for a minute, before Svetlana opened it for him. She reclosed and locked the door when the kid left the room, and when Ian moved to stand up, pointed at her bed and said, “sidet'.” Ian quickly did as he was told, and sat back down on the bed. He knew better than to go against Svet, especially when she was in a mood. And her lack of speech this morning told him something was off. “We need to talk,” she said carefully, sitting down on the other side of the bed, both turning around to face the other.

 

               “Radi tebya,” Ian cussed under his breath. This was obviously going to be a Mickey talk, and that was the last talk he wanted to have.

 

               “Zatknis' and listen. We have problema.” Ian rolled his eyes.

 

               “We always have _problema._ ” The look Svet shot him got Ian to keep him mouth shut.

 

               “Mickey is problem. Mickey _has_ problem. _You_ are problem.” Ian furrowed his brows and gave Lana a pointed glare.

 

               “ _That’s_ not _my_ problem, Svet, and it’s kind of fucking unfair for you to turn this all on me.” Svetlana just shook her head.

 

               “No, you are his problem, but he is ours. He askes about you, if you date. I do not answer. I tell him you have new job and you help house. Nothing more.” Ian nodded and relaxed his body. He was so grateful that it seemed like everyone was willing to keep his life away from Mickey and not let him in on everything. “He does not take hint. What is plan?” Ian let out an exhausted laugh.

 

               “Plan? Why does everyone expect me to have a damn plan? Grebanyy ad,” he sighed. He shook his head lightly. “I don’t have a plan because this isn’t something people have to deal with. My ‘plan’ if you can call it that, was going to be to just not fucking talk when he’s around. Just ignore him.”

 

               “And when you want to talk to us?” Ian shook his head again and threw his hands up in defeat.

 

               “I don’t fuckin’ know, Lana. Just speak Russian when he’s around? We all know it, and he’d fucking hate if we were all talking to each other in another language. Give him a code name and everything.” Svetlana nodded along with his idea, loving every word of it, even if Ian was half kidding. “I just need him to leave me alone and get the picture that I don’t want to be around him anymore or be with him. It took me so long to get here, and I went through way too much shit to throw it all way for him again. It was so hard at first, ya know? To just forget him. I had to disconnect him from this idea of love that I had in my head because of him. He was around for all the bipolar, so I just put it in my head that he was another one of my sleeping buddies while I was manic. Obviously, he wasn’t, but that’s the only way I could get over him. I told myself he was just sex during my dark times, and acted like there were no real feelings. It’s dumb, but it worked. And here I am now, happy and healthy, he’d just ruin all that.”

 

               The room was quiet for a moment, the two sitting in silence. Eventually, Svetlana looked up with a devilish smile on her face. “Kozel,” she said simply, like that one foreign word was the answer to all their problems.

 

               “Kozel?” Ian repeated.

 

               “Kozel, dah. In Russia, we have word for men who are used for sex. It is kozel. It is goat.” Ian pulled a face.

 

               “A goat? A goat you have sex with?”

 

               “Dah,” Svet confirmed, “many dirty men in Russia.” Ian nodded slowly, before increasing in speed, now with a matching evil grin.

 

               “Kozel it is,” he laughed and stood up to head for the door. “Gotta get Yev to school. And make sure he’s still alive out there.” With his hand on the now unlocked door, he turned around and smiled shyly at Svet, waiting behind him to leave the room. “Thanks, Lana, I mean it.” Svet rolled her eyes and patted his back.

 

               “Yes, yes, carrot boy, leave now.” He chuckled and opened the door, mentally preparing himself for whatever horrors could be waiting for him in the kitchen where they had left Yev and Mickey to rough it out together, unsupervised. Ian had seen Mickey with kids before, and knew it wasn’t always the best pairing out there. Instead, he walked out to what was probably best-case scenario; Yev was sitting at one end of the table, Pop-Tart in hand, staring right at Mickey, who was sat at the other end, mirrored Pop-Tart and glare. Ian didn’t know if it was better that he just wait out the stare down and hope nothing gets out of hand, or risk possibly getting holes burned into him by the laser stares shooting between the kitchen table. Mickey heard the two coming out of the room behind him.

 

               “He’s eating my fucking Pop-Tarts,” Mickey grumbled through the newest mouthful he just chomped off. Yev’s eyes snapped away from Mickey up to Ian and his mom, and all the fear and anger they held moments ago were replaced with delight and love.

 

                “Morkov’!” Yev yelled again. He ran off from the table, speeding to Ian and hugging his legs, like he was seeing him for the first time today.

 

               “Unless they are three years old, they are not yours. We buy for detka, not for you,” Svet pointed at Mickey, who just shook his head.

 

               “Can we go now,” Yevgeny asked quietly, pulling closer to Ian. Ian smiled carefully, not wanting anyone to see. It looked like Yev wasn’t enjoying Mickey’s company just as much as Ian. He nodded and rubbed Yev’s back.

 

               “ **Yeah, let’s go, rabbit** ,” Ian said to Yev in Russian. Mickey’s head snapped back and was now glaring down at Ian behind him, who was narrowly avoiding eye contact.

 

               “What the fuck did you say?” he shot. Whatever Ian just said definitely wasn’t English. Why the fuck wasn’t he speaking English. Ian kept his head straight and looked at Svet across the kitchen with a smile on his face, and in the moment, he hates how much he’s missed that damn smile.

 

               “ **Goat already hates this shit** ,” he says, smile growing wider when Svetlana looks at Mickey who is staring back and forth between the two of them.

 

               “Kozel?” Yev looked up to Ian to ask.

 

               “Oh, what the fuck,” Mickey sighed. _Even the damn kid?_

 

**“Yeah, goat. That’s what we’re calling Mickey so he doesn’t know where talking about him** ,” Ian explained. Yev looked over at a confused and annoyed Mickey and laughed.

 

               “Kozel,” he repeated right at his father. Mickey lowered his eyebrows as deep as they’d go on his forehead. What was this kid fuckin’ playin’ at right now? And what the fuck were they saying?

 

               “What the fuck did you just say to me? What the fuck did he just say to me?” Mickey looked around at everyone for some sort of answer or insight, but no one seemed to be budging. The rest of the room was smiling and laughing, all in on their little secret, and it was making Mickey mad. He tossed the rest of his Pop-Tart on the table and stormed out of the kitchen into one of the back rooms. He didn’t really know where he was going or what he was going to do, but not being able to go in his own room just added fuel to his fire. He ended up in what was last Terry’s room, and slammed the door behind him, shaking with anger and cursing under his breath about the fucking Russians and the fucking lack of rooms to be in and the fucking thought and presence of Terry Milkovich that this room held.

 

               “Well, that went well,” Ian laughed, speaking English again.

 

               “Big man baby does not control anger well,” Svet said as she cleaned up the table. As if on cue, they heard loud banging coming from one of the bedrooms, and they all knew Mickey was throwing shit around whatever room he hid himself in. _Mature_. Ian sighed and looked down at Yev.

 

               “Go get your backpack, krolik, we gotta go.” Yev nodded and ran into the living room to look for his things, and Ian turned back to Svetlana. “I won’t be around tonight, past dropping him off, so when you see Iggy will you tell him to text me later? I don’t know the next time I’ll see him, and we still got a car to work on.” Svet sighed but nodded.

 

               “You cannot hide forever. Bad for detka. He needs you, do not stay away forever.” Guilt immediately flooded all Ian’s senses and he hated what Mickey being here was doing to him. For the sake of his health and sanity, Ian really couldn’t be around the man, but, the more he avoided Mickey the more he really was going to have to avoid Yevgeny, and that wasn’t fucking fair. The kid didn’t do anything, he didn’t even know a single kernel of information on the matter, save for the fact that people kept telling him Mickey was his dad. Whether or not he believed them was another story.

 

               “I won’t, I promise. I just need time, ya know? Gotta figure out what I’m gonna do. I can’t do that shit to Yev, you know that.” Svet nodded back again, but before she could say anything, Yev was running back in the room with his backpack and a bright smile. “Ready?” The boy nodded and ran to say goodbye to his mother, who hugged him back and kissed his head, whispering her usual motherly warning not to do dumb shit at school in Russian. Looking on at the exchange, Ian felt his heart warm and melt over. He’d never be able to leave this, never. Not even to get away from Mickey. _This_ was his family. He obviously loved his real family, he always would, but they were gone, out doin’ their own things. But this, they were always here, they _needed_ him, and that was a nice feeling, a nice thing to have. Ian had spent too much time focusing on his own problems and worrying about them, that this was a nice, healthy distraction, and he could help others.

 

               He had to figure this Mickey shit out, real quick.

 

 

⁂

 

 

               Two weeks had gone by now, more or less, with Mickey back, and things never got easier or less tense. Ian hardly ever came past the threshold of the front door when picking up or dropping off Yevgeny. His eyes would never wonder from Svetlana, Yev, or Iggy, and his body never seemed to relax. Every time he heard the door knocking, Mickey would run into the living room, hoping for a chance to see or talk to him. He had tried to answer the door himself a few times, but Svet had smacked him in the back of the head every time, warning him to say away from _orange boy_.

 

               Mickey was getting anxious with not being able to talk to Ian, and becoming increasingly annoyed that everyone was still withholding information on why Ian was refusing to talk to him. He got the hint that Ian didn’t want shit to do with him right now, but why? And even then, Mickey had somehow found a way to convince himself that it was all temporary, and him and Ian would be back to normal in time. It was like he was blind and oblivious to what was going on. Mickey wanted to be back with Ian so badly, that he really thought it was going to happen. Even through the radio silence and dirty looks from Ian, he believed that would come around once he’d have time to process. If Mickey could see himself, and realize how desperate he seemed as he was grasping for straws with Ian, he’d probably beat the shit out of himself. But; ignorance is bliss.

 

               Mickey spent his days sitting in his room, that he finally moved back into after sneaking all of the Russian’s shit out, worrying himself into sickness with what could be going on. He didn’t like where he was standing with Ian, and needed to know how to fix it. He didn’t know how long it would take for Ian to come around, but he knew he wanted to speed things up. He just needed to know what was wrong.

 

               What if Ian really was dating someone? It would make sense; it was the explanation that made the _most_ sense to him. Ian was dating some jackass, and didn’t want to be with Mickey anymore. Maybe the new fuck had got some ideas in Ian’s head, that weren’t so savory, about how terrible Mickey was and to stay away from him or something. Who knows. But the idea of Ian with someone else really fucked Mickey up, it always had. Mickey was easily provoked into jealousy, and almost every time he was, it had been because of Ian somehow.

 

               Nothing about being back home was getting easier, and it fucking sucked. Mickey was a newly freed man, and he couldn’t even enjoy it because the one fucking person he had been waiting to see again, wanted fuck all to do with him. What was he supposed to do? Sit around and act like nothing was happening? Ignore Ian back? Keep trying to talk to him and getting shot down? All _great_ plans, _really_. Mickey rolled his eyes at himself from where he was sitting on his bed in his boxers, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette. The usual. When did life get so hard and confusing? Was it always like this?

 

               When he was a kid, he learned how to grow up pretty quickly, he had to. Life revolved around keeping himself and Mandy alive long enough to see morning, and ruining ‘errands’ that his father dropped on him that no one should have to do, let alone a child. The older Mickey got, the easier it was to do what his dad wanted him to, and he flew even closer under his wing. Somewhere along the way he stopped feeling, or at least felt things differently than he should. Things didn’t make him sad, few things made him genuinely happy; he was just always pissed off at the world. Typical teen with atypical problems. Maybe it was losing his mom; maybe it was the hard life he was forced into; maybe it was all the drugs from a young age. Who knows.

 

               Maybe it was always this hard back then, but it was just different now. He _did_ have those emotions he should’ve always had. After Ian, he found his softer side again, and remembered what it was like to hurt and cry and he fucking hated it now. Mickey wanted to be able to just let Ian fuck off like he was trying to do and not worry about what was going on in his head. He knew he was on his meds and happy with a good job, and a potential boyfriend, so that should be enough. For the longest time, he just wanted Ian happy and healthy, and now he was. Why didn’t it feel good? Because he wasn’t happy with _Mickey_. He didn’t get to share whatever moments Ian was enjoying in his days; didn’t get to see the smiles or hear the laughs, feel the kisses and touches. Someone was taking them, and Mickey didn’t even get a chance to claim them again.

 

               He didn’t want to think about this shit anymore. He had been in bed all day, and it was so late now, that the kid and Svet had already gone to bed. He crushed his beer can and tossed it across the room into the waste basket, narrowly missing, and stubbed out his cigarette. He basically rolled off his bed and pulled a t-shirt on from the pile on his dresser. He walked out of his room and into the living room where he found Iggy on the couch watching tv. _Okay_ , maybe he wasn’t done thinking about this shit. He really wanted to know about everything, and maybe Iggy knew something. He acted weird when Mickey asked about Ian before. He also saw the two exchange words a few times since he’s been back; it looked like they were friends or something. “Hey, douchebag,” he said as he flopped himself down on the couch next to his brother with a heavy sigh.

 

               “Hey, man,” he answered easily, eyes not leaving the screen.

 

               “Oh, ya talkin’ to me now?” Iggy furrowed his brows and looked over to his brother.

 

               “What?” Mickey shrugged and scrunched his nose.

 

               “I don’t know, I was locked up a long time and never heard a fuckin’ word,” Mickey said. Iggy shook his head defensively.

 

               “No, no. I didn’t just fuckin’ abandon you whatever-“Iggy started, but was cut off quickly.

 

               “No? Then why the fuck did I go years without hearing shit from anyone but Mandy? Shit, even Ian fucking visited once. Where were you? Too busy with shit?” Mickey was getting more irritated now, and he thought it wasteful; this wasn’t even what he wanted to talk to Iggy about.

 

               “Every time Lana went, I was sleeping for work. I did come down a few times, but they changed the visiting hours or some shit. That fuckin’ bitch at the front was no fuckin’ help and wouldn’t  tell me when the new hours were. Guess she was done dealin’ with Milkovichs.” Mickey huffed a small laughed and nodded.

 

               “Shit, I remember that bitch. They didn’t even tell us when they moved visiting hours. Never told us shit. I thought that’s why no one came down anymore. Until I realized what really happened.” Mickey shook his head.

 

               “Shit got hard here, too. Had to help out more,” Iggy said quietly, pulling Mickey’s attention again. “We were so fuckin’ broke, that’s when I got the security job at one of the clubs. I was still getting used to the schedule and would just pass out all day till my next shift. And, I had to watch the kid a lot. Lana moved back in when shit went down with the two fucks she was sleeping with or whatever. It was fuckin’ hard but then Ian-“ Iggy coughed into his fist and shook his head, turning back to the tv screen, “but then we worked shit out.” Mickey nodded and turned to the tv himself.

 

               He figured he couldn’t really blame Iggy. He obviously tried to see him. And, Mickey knew how shit went in their lives. Mickey wasn’t around to be a father to his son, so people had to step up and take his place. He hated that thought. He hated that at one point, Iggy was more of a father to Yevgeny, and he _really_ hated that _Ian_ was way more of a father than he was. It didn’t matter if Mickey never saw himself having kids; he did have a kid, and he had even cared for him. But, now, as far as the kid was concerned, Mickey was just another shitty Southside dad that he wanted nothing to do with.

 

               So many thoughts and emotions where flying through Mickey’s body, he couldn’t even keep tracker of what was making him the most angry. But, he did know he still wanted answers on Ian, and that Iggy seemed to be in a chatty mood. They had sat in silence, save for the noise from the tv, for a few minutes before Mickey broke it. He rubbed his nose with his knuckles and stared at Iggy’s profile. _Might as well._

               “So, uh, you and Gallagher fuckin’ buddies now, or what?”

 

               “Yeah, we hang out and shit. Cool dude.” Mickey nodded to himself slowly.

 

               “Spendin’ more time with fuckhead than me, huh? You’ve clearly picked a side-“

 

               “Oh, shut the fuck up, Mick. That’s not what it’s like,” Iggy’s words didn’t hold as much they could’ve, but more like that of a calm conversation. “You’re my brother. I know that, even fuckin’ he knows that. I’m not about to forget about you because I hang out with him.” Mickey breathed a small sigh of relief. He hated the idea of his brother being close with Ian, especially when it felt like everyone was picking sides, and they were all choosing Ian’s. Though it did seem Iggy was still there for Mickey, at least somewhat. He nodded again, and let his brother’s words hang in the air for a moment before-

 

               “He seein’ anyone?” Iggy blinked a few times and slowly turned his head to eye his brother.

 

               “What?” Iggy asked nervously. He knew this was coming. He had been preparing for this talk since Mickey had come home, but he still wasn’t ready for it. It was only a matter of a time before he started asking shit about Ian, but he still didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to go running his mouth, he knew Ian wouldn’t want him doing that, but he also didn’t want Mickey cornering him and sneak attacking him with more questions about Ian. He didn’t know how to get out of this one, and figured he’d have to bite the bullet with Ian later when he told him.

 

               “Uh, no, I don’t think so…” Iggy trailed carefully. He had to play this right. Give enough information to ward off his brother, but not enough to upset his friend.

 

               “What? Really? So, what the fuck’s his problem?” Mickey shot. He was so confused now. Why was Ian being so cold to him if it wasn’t ‘cause of some guy he was fucking? He couldn’t decide if he was more hurt or mad right now. _Annoyed_ for sure. Iggy hesitated for a second.

 

               “Oh, uh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just hard to see you, ya know?” Iggy coughed into a fist and turned back to the tv, hoping this was over and they could move on with their lives. He should’ve known better.

 

               “Okay, but bullshit. If that was true, he would’ve fuckin’ told me he’s not ready to see me or shit. That’s how he is.” Iggy held back a wince. Ask Ian, and he’d probably say something about how Mickey didn’t actually know him anymore and he should stay the hell outta his business. He almost wanted to laugh at that. He just sighed and scratched his beard.

 

               “I don’t fuckin’ know, man. We don’t sit around paintin’ our damn nails and talkin’ about our boy troubles. Fuckin’ ask him.” Mickey shook his head with raised brows like Iggy was an idiot, because he fucking was.

 

               “He doesn’t fucking wanna talk to me, man, that’s the problem. He needs to stop being a fucking bitch and just-“ he was cut off when the door opened. The two brothers turned their heads to the door, and Mickey held his breath. Ian was standing in the doorway, shocked and surprised to see Mickey sitting on the couch with Iggy. He looked between the two for a moment, but settled on glaring at Iggy.

 

               “ **What the hell’s goat doing here? You said he was sleeping** ,” Ian bit in Russian, crossing his arms. Iggy stood up and shook his head.

 

               “ **I thought he was, he just woke up** ,” Iggy replied. Mickey snapped his head back, the Russian hitting him straight in the face.

 

               “Oh, what the fuck?” Mickey groaned, “What, you all a bunch of fuckin’ commies now?” This was so annoying. Could no one just fucking speak English when he was around? Iggy laughed and turned back to Mickey with a genuine smile like he was going to say something, but barely opened his mouth when Ian interrupted with more Russian.

 

               “ **Can we go now?** ” he asked annoyedly. Iggy lifted his head back to Ian and nodded lightly. He felt bad for having Ian walk in on him fraternizing with the enemy, so he wanted to get him out of here as fast as he could. He also felt bad for leaving his brother, too, though. He really did love his brother, and he was family, so he should be there more for him than Ian, especially now. They’ve had tonight planned for a while now, though, so he’d have to wait to wean himself away from Ian and spend more time with his brother. Not that he’d ever admit it, but Iggy really had missed Mickey while he was in prison and was glad he was back.

 

               “ **Yeah, let’s go** ,” he said. He turned to Mickey, who was trying to see if he could pick up any context clues on what the fuck they were talking about, and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry, man, we’re gonna head out…” Iggy trailed off. Mickey sat up, moving like he was going to stand up.

 

               “Where are you going? Can I go?” he asked, a little too desperate for his liking. Ian laughed darkly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He dropped his arms and turned around, walking out the door to wait for Iggy on the front porch. _Fuck that_. Iggy sighed and scratched the back of his neck. Not knowing what else to say, he slowly backed himself to the front door, giving Mickey a weak wave, and walked out the door. Mickey stared at the door Iggy and Ian disappeared behind and felt lonely and betrayed. So, this is really what they’re fucking doing? No budging? _Fine_. Mickey was over this shit now. He could play that game, too.

 

               “Sorry, seriously, I thought he was a sleep, he came out like right before you got here,” Iggy apologized as they walked down to his car parked on the street. Ian nodded mindlessly and got into the car. “Was askin’ about you again,” Iggy tried while starting the car. He knew all the shit the two had been through, but he really did like the idea of Ian and Mickey together, especially now that he was friends with Ian. Ian rolled his eyes and looked out his window.

 

               “Yeah? Can’t keep his nose outta my shit, huh?” Iggy laughed.

 

               “I had a feeling you’d say that. But, no, man, he wants to know if you’re dating people and why you won’t talk to him and-“

 

               “You’re telling him my shit? Really, Igg?” Iggy shook his head defensively.

 

               “Fuck, no, come on, man. I mean, okay, I told him you weren’t seeing anyone but mostly to get him off my back- ow! Fuck, Gallagher! What was that shit for?” Iggy rubbed his arm where Ian had punched him, while keeping the other on the wheel and kept driving.

 

               “Why the fuck are you telling him shit?” Ian yelled.

 

               “Just to get him to shut up for a damn second. He likes to fuckin’ corner me and ask shit about you, and it’s getting old. I didn’t tell him anything else, I swear, you know I wouldn’t.” Ian relaxed back into the seat and sighed.

 

               “I know, I know. It’s just stressful is all. It’s getting hard to deal with all this shit.” He rubbed his face a little with his hand and looked down into his lap. He really didn’t like snapping at Iggy, and, just like with Mandy, Mickey was his brother. He couldn’t ask him to not talk to his brother or anything, that would be fucked up.

 

               “Shit’ll work out, dude, just takes time,” Iggy said quietly. The two were quiet for the rest of their ride, until Iggy finally pulled into his friend’s mechanic shop. He parked the car in a space by the garage door, and dug around his pockets for a key to open it. Ian shuffled his feet a bit, waiting for the door to pull up, and ducked into the garage when Iggy got it open.

 

               Ian walked around the decently sized space, and looked into the darkness until Iggy turned the light on, relieving a 1959, cherry red Cadillac. Ian’s eyes widened combed all over the car. Ian was speechless. This make and model was pretty overrated to most people since it was _the_ car that comes to mind when you think ‘classic’. It was in the movies and tv shows and ads, but Ian still loved it. It was his dream car, honestly, and Iggy knew it, so he must be using it to bribe him.

 

               “What, you wanna money? Drugs? You kill someone and need help hiding the body?” Iggy laughed and came to stand next to Ian, who was still admiring the car.

 

               “What the hell are you talking about?” Ian gestured to the car and side-eyed his friend.

 

               “You got the car, _my_ car. You obviously want shit.”

 

               “Oh whatever, man. And it’s not _your_ car, you don’t get to take this shit home with ya, but I’m sure Eric would be willing to part with her for a hefty payment,” he smiled and nudged Ian, walking over to a tool bench behind the car. Ian shook his head and walked over to one of the walls where a fold up chair was, bringing it back to the car and sitting it down. He wasn’t the best when it came to tools and doing shit like that with his hands, so he usually opted for sitting and observing; a safe man’s sport.

 

               “Yeah fuckin’ right. I wish I had that kinda money to drop on cars I wouldn’t be able to actually keep around. How long you think this would last in our neighborhood?” Iggy came up to stand next to Ian again, tilting his head in consideration.

 

               “Five, ten minutes, if you’re lucky.” The two laughed and Iggy moved to pop the hood of the car and peered inside. “Just thought you’d like to see it, ya know? Especially with all the shit goin’ on. It’s a nice break.” Ian pressed back into the metal chair and pursed his lips, nodding. _Okay_ , maybe this _was_ just a nice gesture. “Plus, I thought I could get ya talkin’ if ya had somethin’ pretty to look at,” Iggy said quickly, ducking his head to hide his face from Ian.

 

               “Oh, what the fuck, man? Really, with the bribes?” Iggy scratched his already grimy hand on the back of his neck, and stood up right to look at Ian.

 

               “I think you need talk about this shit because it’s gonna be a while before anything happens, and you can’t fix shit if you’re just keeping it all to yourself.” Ian rolled his eyes and held back a snarky laugh, because, _really_?

 

               “You goin’ all camp counselor on me?”

 

               “Come on, man, I’m serious,” Iggy huffed.

 

               “No, you come on, _man_ , what the fuck do you want me to do? Want me to spill my guts about some guy I used to fuck? Wanna know all about how much fucking pain I’m in ‘cause of this shit? How stressed I am?” Ian yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls, and echoing back to them. He hadn’t meant to snap like that. Iggy’s face dropped and Ian looked in his lap, playing with his hands. They kept quiet for a while, Iggy working on the car, Ian thinking. He figured Iggy actually had a point. He’d been so stressed lately and hadn’t really talked to anyone about it. He talked to Mandy and Iggy, but just one time each, and not too in depth. He actually puked two days before from the stress. Maybe it _would_ behoove him to talk, and who better than someone who had witnessed all this shit. “It’s fuckin’ hard, Igg,” he eventually said, quietly, just above a whisper. Iggy kept his head and attention in the car, and Ian was grateful for that.

 

               “It’s hard having him back?”

 

               “Yeah, I guess. It’s just hard seeing him and being around him. I thought I’d have so much more time till I’d have to deal with this shit, if ever. I wasn’t ready, not yet.” Ian sighed and scratched his eyebrow, watching Iggy nod his head in understanding.

 

               “You ever think about him, like, before he got back?” Iggy asked carefully, not knowing how this would pan out. Ian scrunched his nose.

 

               “I mean, at first, kind of. But, not really anymore, no. Well, I wasn’t, but I can’t fucking stop now. Can’t turn a corner without him being there.” Iggy knew better than to ask the question he really wanted to know. He knew it could potentially start some kind of fight or something. He didn’t want to get Ian in a tizzy, but he had to know.

 

               “Do you still love him?” The question took Ian off guard. Out of all the things people would ask him about Mickey, if he still loved him should’ve been the one he was expecting the most, and yet, it was the one that tripped him up and surprised him the most. He stumbled with his thoughts for a minute, not knowing how to respond. He never thought about those feelings he used to have for Mickey, all that was there anymore was negative. Regardless, he didn’t have the room for that shit in his life right now. He had a job and Yevgeny, and that’s all he needed right now, all he wanted.

 

               “I’m scared,” he whispered, shaking his head. Iggy turned around to look at him, his brows knotted in confusion. Ian caught on and kept talking, but then couldn’t stop. “In my head, I have a connection between Mickey and that bad time in my life. He was around for all the hard parts, ya know? When I think of him I just think of all that shit I had to deal with. And I don’t let myself think about the good times with him, because that hurts, too, and I just don’t want that.” Ian took a deep breath. “I don’t want my bipolar to start fucking me up because he’s back, because in my head, the two go together. What if my meds give out because he’s back now? I can’t do that, not with Yev. He doesn’t know about it. He thinks my pills are vitamins. He doesn’t know I fucking stole him when he was a baby.

 

               “What if I do it again? What if I take him away again and leave him in the car or hurt him? He’s older now, Igg, I’ll scare him. What if he doesn’t trust me anymore or doesn’t want me around? I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want him mad or scared of me. I just- just-“ Ian was cut off when Iggy walked over and trapped him in a bone crushing hug. He hadn’t realized he was slipping into a panic attack or shaking until Iggy was using his body to still him. He could now feel the tremors rattling his bones and the hot tears slipping down his cheeks. _Fuck._ He can’t remember the last time he had a panic attack like this, but he knew it had been a while.

 

               “Just breathe, man,” Iggy said in a hushed tone, trying to calm him down. He had only witnessed Ian’s freak outs once before, but figured out quickly enough what he could do to help. He could feel Ian’s breath slowly regulate, and pulled back when he thought he was more composed. He looked into Ian’s red eyes and smiled warmly. “That kid is never gonna hate you, okay? He’s never gonna hate you or be scared of you or shit. He fuckin’ loves you, you know that.” Ian nodded softly, because he knew Iggy was right. But, he couldn’t help those thoughts that burrowed in his head like that. He took one more deep breath and smiled back weakly.

 

               “Sorry. I hate when this shit happens,” he rubbed his eyes and Iggy moved back to the car, “I’ve been so on edge lately.”

 

               “Don’t worry, man, I get it. My brother’s pretty stress inducing.”

 

               “Yeah, he fucking is.” The two laughed. When the laughter died down, and a silence blanketed the garage, Ian was left with his thoughts again. Scary company, his thoughts. He thinks maybe it’s his bipolar, or that his disease just amplifies everything for him, but over the years his brain got really good at taking his concerns and fears and magnifying them. His head would come up with all these disastrous scenes and reasons for the bad things that did or could happen, and threw them at Ian like a tsunami. His brain could never create good outcomes to things by itself, and Ian always had to provide some positivity to it.

 

               Things weren’t all bad. That was something it took him a long time to come to terms with, maybe too long. But, he knew that now, and it helped him get through some of his harder times. There were always other things that seemed to trump his ‘small’ insecurities and anxieties. Who cared about if he didn’t feel like getting out of bed one morning, when there were lives he had to help and save at work? Who cared if he didn’t feel like eating or taking his meds anymore, when he had to remember to stop at the store on his way home to pick up groceries? Who cared about the monsters in his head, when Yevgeny had his own monsters under his bed? You have to concern yourself with bigger things.

 

               His troubles always had just enough time and power to burrow and plant themselves in the meat of Ian’s brain, before he would remember the more important things; promises he made to fragile boys and scary Russians. Eventually, it all became so much easier to handle and deal with. He knew the bad things that would come of him giving into the fears, so he did everything in his power not to. He pushed the screaming voices to the far recesses of this skull, and waited for his meds to kick in and sweep them out, even if only until his next dose.

 

               While for a lot of people, adding the responsibilities of a child and another household under your belt would add to the crushing weight you already felt on a daily basis, it helped Ian. There were many times in his life he only had himself to live for, and it was never enough. He wouldn’t miss himself if he was gone, so what did it matter if he stayed? It mattered now because Yevgeny would miss him, because Yevgeny needed him. Yev has had a hard-enough life already, and Ian didn’t see it getting much better in the near future, especially not with his father back, but no way in hell would Ian add the burden of his mental illness and occasional (almost nonexistent by now) suicidal tendencies on the child. He hated enough that he had ever pushed these problems on his family, and even Mickey once upon a time, but he couldn’t do that to a four-year-old boy.

 

               One day, way in the future, Yevgeny may thank Ian for being around and helping him and his mother when they needed, but Ian would not stop thanking _Yevgeny_ for saving _him_. He doesn’t know where he could be right now, had he never reached out to Svetlana to see how her and her son were pulling through with Mickey in prison. He had made one visit to the house, after Svetlana had bribed him to come to the prison with her, and Ian to instantly become invested in the two. He initially just wanted to make sure they were doing okay, or needed help; he missed Yev, even then, and wanted to make sure Svet and Yev were pulling through. He knew it must’ve been hard for them, and he didn’t know how Lana was managing working the bar with Yevgeny, and had offered to help watch him when he was free. And he never left.

 

               If he could get through all the things his life has thrown at him, he could get through this. This was nothing compared to some things he’s had to deal with; this was nothing compared to some of the things he’s had to deal with in his own _head_. And, he still knew how to deal with Mickey, what buttons to press to get him to back down if he needed to. This would be a piece of cake. A shitty, gross, stale piece of cake, sure, but cake nonetheless.

 

               “Doesn’t really go away, though? Does it” Ian lifted his head from where he was staring blankly at on oil spot on the concrete under him to look at Iggy. He tried to clear his head quickly to better focus on Iggy.

 

               “Huh?”

 

               “Those feelings. You fucking loved him. That doesn’t go away, does it?” Iggy turned over his shoulder, still bent into the hood of the car, and looked back at his work. Ian thought for a minute, because, did it? He doesn’t think about loving Mickey anymore, but Iggy kind of had a point. For a long time, Ian was sure he’d end up with Mickey; spend the rest of his life with him, even though rough spots. He loved that man so fucking much, so fucking _fast_. It had taken awhile for Mickey to seem like he felt the same, and by that time, Ian felt like it was too late. He was already lost to his disorder by that point, and couldn’t always think for himself with a clear mind. He only knew what the bipolar was telling him, and that was that Mickey didn’t really love him, because he was trying so hard to change him, so he had to leave. Later on, when he cleared up and started taking his meds, he realized that Mickey wasn’t trying to change him, but just get him healthy. How would things have turned out if he listened?

 

               Maybe Mickey never would’ve messed with Sammi or gotten arrested. Maybe they’d still be happy and together. But is that what he wanted? Looking at it now, Ian didn’t know what he wanted in anything in life, especially not when it came to Mickey. He did know that, in this time, he wanted nothing to do with the man. How did he get there with his feelings with Mickey?

 

               Ian was just still mad at him for all the ways he’d ruined his life. Mickey was always beating the shit out of him and being a dick. He tried to kill his dad _and_ his sister (well, _okay_ , he _wanted_ to kill them, but never _really_ hurt either of them). He tried to completely change who Ian was, and still expected him to turn around and run back to him like he’d always done (or, Ian supposed, he wanted Ian to just be happy and loved him). He’d literally got himself locked in prison for three years, after Ian literally broke up with him just moments before, and then comes back and thinks they’re cool? Like, what, he thought him and Ian were going to go back to what they were before and pretend none of this shit that happened did? Fuck that.

 

               Even if that’s how Ian felt now, Iggy was on to something, and the thought of it had released into his brain. Just because he hadn’t thought about Mickey or being with him in a long time, and just because he didn’t _want_ to be with him anymore, didn’t mean he didn’t still love him. He thinks Mickey was the first man he ever loved, was definitely the first real relationship he had, not just some old man he was sleeping with. There was love and passion, and they cared for each other, and that’s all Ian ever wanted. That really didn’t just go away. He probably always would have a part of him that still loved Mickey, or at least the idea of Mickey, and maybe, one day, when he wasn’t in a bad place with him anymore, he could be okay with that part of him, and not so mad.

 

               Mickey just made it so hard to love him, and made life itself so hard, too. Things weren’t easy when you knew a Milkovich, but loving one? Forget about it. That was a suicide mission of the heart and mind, and you’d never make it out alive. But, still, Ian couldn’t hold this anger forever, not if he wanted to continue to be there for Yev and Lana. “I guess not,” he finally choked out. He picked at his fingernails and let his thoughts slip out through his mouth, the dam between the two having been broken now. “I guess some parts of me always will feel that way, but that doesn’t really mean anything, you know? It’s not that I still love him, but that at one point I _did_ because he gave me something I always wanted. But I get love from other places now, and I don’t need him. Not like that.” Iggy nodded his head.

 

               “Think you guys will ever work shit out?” Ian sighed through his nose.

 

               “I don’t know. Would be easier. If we just moved passed all that old shit and were just friends. I think once I get over all the shock and pain of this all, I’ll be able to sit down with him and tell him everything. He’ll get over it eventually. He’s not gonna want to keep chasin’ someone who doesn’t want him back.” Ian shrugged to himself.

 

               “Would be cool for Yev, too. Seeing you being friends with his dad would make him less scared of him.” That was true. Kids are so impressionable, and Yev absolutely picked up on Ian not liking Mickey, so, naturally, Yev wasn’t going to like Mickey.

 

               “Yeah. Poor fuckin’ kid.” Ian stood up and stretched. This had gotten heavier than he had anticipated when he came out with Iggy tonight, but he did feel better. His head felt more cleared, and now he felt less flighty about the whole thing. He may be able to go forth with a new plan to better his current relationship, and do good for Yev at least. Despite how light he was feeling now, it was enough for one night. “So, how’s the car lookin’?” Ian tried for a subject change, coming to stand next to Iggy, peering down in the engine. Iggy sighed contently.

 

               “Real fuckin’ good, man. Fuck Eric, I might take this shit for myself.” Ian laughed genuinely.

 

               “Gonna let me drive it?”

 

               “Fuck, man, I’ll have to. S’your fuckin’ car, I’d be stealin’ it from ya,” he laughed and elbowed Ian in the side, who just punched Iggy in the stomach lightly. And just like that, everything would be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian to English Translations
> 
> Glavhaya - Home
> 
> Rossiya - Russia
> 
> Oranzhevyy mal'chik - Orange boy
> 
> Ya tozhe tebya lyuba, detka - I love you, too, baby
> 
> Proshchay - Goodbye
> 
> Yebat', koza - Fuck you, goat

**_ Chapter Four _ **

 

 

 

 

               He may not have been sure what was going to happen with Mickey and all of this, but when a week had passed now, and Mickey did not try once to talk to him like usual, Ian was grateful. It was a relief to not have to work so hard to avoid him and was going to make Ian coming to terms with things easier, and he could approach Mickey when he was ready. They didn’t run into each other at the house as often, Mickey never looked at him when he came to the house for Yevgeny anymore, and he never, _never_ tried to make conversation.

 

               It was weird for the first few days. As much as he hated it, Ian had gotten accustomed to seeing and hearing Mickey, and the day after Ian and Iggy had hung out to work on the Cadillac, he almost found himself trying to get in Mickey’s line of sight, thinking he just hadn’t caught him. But, he definitely did, because he had stood up from the couch, looked Ian right in the eye, and left the room. He didn’t miss Mickey or his badgering, he one hundred percent didn’t, but it had almost felt like part of his routine now, and it was gone. But, why was it happening? Why was Mickey suddenly leaving him alone?

 

               Had he _finally_ got the hint and was really going to just let Ian get on with his life? Ian hoped so. He’d be able to move past this faster if that were the case. This could be good. Things still felt tense in the house whenever Ian was there, but that was to be expected. There’d probably always still be a little bit of tension, that couldn’t be helped. Coming over to the Milkovich abode had become less of a daunting task now, though, without the pestering, so no way was Ian going to look the gift horse in the mouth on this one, but still wondered what changed in Mickey. He was going to welcome the peace.

 

               But, that’s the thing with peace; it doesn’t last forever.

 

               Ian should’ve known better than to fall into the trap of false sense of security with that peace. Things were never that simple, not for him. He’d never be that lucky. And, all it took to crush that away was a simple knock on the door one morning when he went to pick up Yevgeny for school. He was met with a frazzled Svetlana, which he wasn’t so accustomed to seeing from her anymore. He pointed her with a worried look, scared of what could cause this in a woman as strong and resilient as she. “Hey, Lana, what’s goin’ on?” Svet stepped back from the door to let Ian in while she moved to open a cpuple suitcases on the couch. He looked around the room, and noticed a good majority of her belongings scattered across the room. _Well this can’t be good._

 

               “I am going glavnaya,” she stated. _What?_

 

               “Home? Aren’t you home right now?” he asked, gesturing to the house.

 

               “Rossiya. I go back to Russia. Today.”

 

               “What?” Ian’s blood ran cold. Did he hear her right? She was going back to Russia? Why? “Wait, today? What the fuck, Svet?”

 

               “Am not legal citizen. They deport me until I become citizen.” She threw stuff into a suitcase, annoyance and anger evident. “Just got call last night at bar.”

 

               “But, aren’t you still married to Mickey? Doesn’t that count?” Svet shook her head.

 

               “Marriage is fake and invalid. I am still married to man in Russia. Marriage here was for show and for zaychik. I thought we get good life if we stay. Now, green card is expired, and I need to go back until I can get new one.” She shook her head and started cussing about the American government in Russian. This wasn’t right. What the hell was happening? This was too much too fast and too damn early. He had _just_ walked through the door, and now she was leaving to _Russia_?

 

               “What about Yev?” Did he have to go with her? Was he going to be left here without his mom?

 

               “He has to stay. No passport.” Her tone was bitter and spiteful, and Ian felt terrible. It was probably killing her that she not only had to go back to Russia at all, but that she couldn’t even take her son. Ian knew the bond that was was held between Svetlana and Yevgeny, and knew this would be hard for them.

 

               “Who’s gonna watch him?” Ian really already knew the answer, but he wanted to be sure, wanted to make sure she was okay with it. Svet slowly turned around and looked at Ian like he was stupid.

 

               “You, dumb fuck.” She finally cracked her first smile since Ian walked in the house. He smiled back and moved to help her toss her things into bags.

 

               “Does he know?” Lana sighed.

 

               “We talked. I do not think he understands fully. I told him you would watch him, he is okay with it.” Ian laughed and nodded. “You can stay her. Kozel can watch when you are gone.” Ian lowered his brows in thought. He didn’t quite like the sound of that.

 

               “You trust him with Yev?”

 

               “He is good father. Maybe not the best, but who has great dad? He will keep him alive and punish him if he fucks up. You will be around. We are team. This cannot be done without all of us. Zaychik is in good hands.” Svet turned to walk down the hallway to grab more things, leaving Ian with his thoughts. With Svet gone, he and Mickey would have to handle all the drop offs, or Ian would have to practically move in. That wouldn’t end well. But, with the way things were playing out right now, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. They could be in the same house without talking too much. And, maybe the time together would get them back to a more civil place with each other, and they could focus on Yev’s well-being as a team, like Lana said. He’d just have to play it by ear, he figured. Svetlana came back in the room with Yevgeny in one arm, and a purse in the other.

 

               “Hey, kid,” Ian greeted happily to Yev. He reached out to grab him from his mom, and held him on his left hip.

 

               “Hi! Did momma tell you? She has to go buh-bye, so you get to stay with me!” The boy lifted his arms above his head with excitement. Ian laughed and ruffled the blonde hair.

 

               “I heard! We’re gonna have fun, huh?” Yev nodded quickly and giggled when Ian started tickling his sides with light pinches.

 

               “What are we doing today?” Yev asked when he finally caught his breath. Ian put him down on the arm of the couch and helped Svet zip up the bags.

 

               “I was thinkin’ go to the park and then maybe get some ice cream? But, If that sounds too boring-“

 

               “No! Park and ice cream! Park and ice cream!” Yevgeny jumped down from the couch and chanted circles around the living room, until his mother stood in front of him to stop him.

 

               “I leave now, zaychik, come here.” She bent down to pick up her son, and sat them on the couch, looking at him sternly. “You listen to oranzhevyy mal'chik and kozel. You do not, they will punish you. Kozel will have no mercy, unlike softie over there,” she nudged her head in Ian’s direction, who tried to be offended, but she did have a point. “I will not be gone long. Rainbow boys take care of you, will not even notice I left.” Svetlana nodded along with her own words, more so to convince herself that everything would be okay. The only time she was ever away from her son was when Ian tried taking him to Florida. It was almost funny that years later she’d find herself leaving him in the man’s care so easily.

 

               She trusted Ian, and knew nothing bad would happen, even if she was gone for a long time, she knew things would be okay. It would probably be a weird and rocky start at first, what with all the drama, but they’re big boys; they’d work it out. Still, it would probably be harder for her to be away from her baby than the tension would be on the rest of them. “I love you, mamochka,” Yev said sweetly, leaning forward to hug his mother tightly. She smiled to herself and lowered her head to give the top of his head a long kiss. They held on to each other a little longer before Svetlana finally pulled back and smiled down at her son.

 

               “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, detka,” she choked. It was rare for Svetlana to be taken over with emotions, but Yevgeny was her weak spot. She sniffed loudly and stood up, rubbing he hands on her jeaned thighs. “Enough now. I go.” She grabbed one of her bags and looked back and forth between Ian and the other bag. When he finally got the hint, he jumped up and grabbed it.

 

               “Here, Lana, let me get that for you,” he said apologetically. She turned and gave Yevgeny one last, short nod before they walked out the front door, leaving Yev inside on the couch. There was now a cab parked in front of the house, one Svet had called for shortly after she woke up that morning. Ian helped Svetlana bring her bags down to the waiting taxi and pile them into the popped trunk. “Who’s gonna watch the bar?” It didn’t seem right or even natural that Svetlana was just up and leaving, without any of them having time to prepare, so he had secretly hoped that would be something she forgot or something else that would delay her trip. But, there were two things Ian knew for sure; Svetlana was always on top of her shit and never forgot anything, and the U.S government wasted no time when trying to kick someone put of the country when they thought they didn’t belong.

 

               “I get men upstairs to help. They do not pay rent for time I am gone. We will be cutting it close when I come back.”

 

               “Don’t worry about that, okay? We’ll be okay, we’ll get money. I’ll talk to Fiona and tell her I can’t give her money for a while if I have to.” Svet shook her head, brushing it off, and sighed. When she was all loaded up, she turned to Ian and grabbed him by the shoulders.

 

               “Keep my son alive, or I will cut your balls off and feed them to you,” she warned. Ian rolled his eyes but nodded. She lifted one of her hands slapped his face lightly a couple times. “And keep you alive. We need our orange boy. Do not let dumb, whiny fuck bother you.” Ian laughed genuinely at that and wrapped his arm around Svet’s shoulders, pulling her in for a quick hug and kissing her head. “I cannot make calls while I am gone. International calls are too expensive. I should not be gone long.”

 

               “Proshchay, Svet,” Ian said as she climbed into the back of the cab. She smiled, nodded, and closed the door, signaling for the driver to be on his way. This all seemed so rushed. How could he have just walked into the house not an hour ago, and now Svet was gone for an indefinite amount of time to Russia no less? Where was the warning and time to prepare? Ian watched the car retreat to the end of the street, and headed back inside when it made a turn to the left and out of sight.

 

               He didn’t want to be at the house right now, in fear that Mickey was home, and thought it best to get Yevgeny out for a while, lest the boy really caches on that his mom just left. Ian didn’t figure Yev really realized what was going on, and he didn’t think he’d react well if he found out. “Okay, ready to go to the park, little man?” he asked while still standing in the front doorway. Yev jumped off the couch again and ran to Ian.

 

               “Can we go to the park that has the puppies?” he asked when they walked down the front steps.

 

               “Okay, but you gotta be nicer to the dogs or we’re not going there anymore. And you can’t try to steal any this time, either.” Yev huffed down beside him as they started walking down the sidewalk.

 

               “I just want a puppy!”

 

               “Yeah, yeah. Talk to your mom when she gets back.” Yev nodded and reached his hand up to hold Ian’s, who complied easily. They walked in silence for about half of the walk, but Ian had things on his mind. How was he going to get through this time with Svet gone? How was he supposed to handle Mickey and make things work? He knew how childish and difficult Mickey was, and didn’t think he had the patience for him anymore. Maybe he just wouldn’t be around much, and Ian could just take care of everything himself. That would make things easier. It seemed that’s all he’s been doing since Mickey’s been back; hoping and wishing for things to be _easier_. He was starting to hate the word. “Was your dad at the house this morning?” Yev thought for a moment before answering.

 

               “He was when I got up, but he went to the store before you got there.”

 

               “He went to the store?” Yev nodded. Ian only ever remembered Mickey going to the store when he was going to the Kash and Grab to see him, or get vitamins and shit for him.

 

               “Momma asked him to get food for dinner.” Yev began swaying their hands together and humming a song in between conversation. Ian just creased his brow.

 

               “Did she tell him she was leaving?”

 

               “Yeah. He said he’d handle it,” Yevgeny stuttered, trying to remember what was said that morning, and make sure he was using the right word. This was weird. Did that mean Mickey was going to actually be active in this and really help around the house and with Yev? If so, why? What was there for him to gain from this? Or, did he really just want to help out with Yevgeny? Maybe he did. He was staring to get closer to Yev just before everything went downhill years ago. Maybe he just still wanted a relationship with him? That would make things go a little smoother now, that’s for sure. If Mickey was trying to get closer to his son, they could just work together for the interest Yevgeny. They could make this about the kid, and nothing else. This could work. Ian was going to _make_ this work. For Yev.

 

 

⁂

 

 

               “You bought all this shit?”

 

               “Yeah, man. I’m running shit while the Russian’s gone. Gotta get food for the kid and shit,” Mickey said, putting the last of the groceries away. Iggy had come out to help when Mickey got back from the store, but ended up just eating some cereal out of the box while sitting on the counter.

 

               “She put you in charge, huh?” Iggy said sarcastically through a mouthful of sugary flakes. Mickey rolled his eyes.

 

               “It’s my fuckin’ house, my fuckin’ kid. I should always be in charge.”

 

               “What about Ian?” Mickey slammed the last cupboard closed and turned to eye his brother.

 

               “What the fuck _about_ Ian?” He crossed his arms and leaned his backside against the counter behind him.

 

               “I mean, him and Yev got a pretty solid thing goin’. He’s gonna be around, probably more, to help with him and see him. He probably thinks _he’s_ the one takin’ care of shit,” rambled Iggy. Mickey just shook his head and pushed off the counter to go sit on the couch.

 

               “Don’t you fuckin’ worry about him. I got it all taken care of.” The second Svetlana had told him she was leaving for a while and would need him to step up and help while she was a way, Mickey came up with a plan. He was so sick of Ian being around if he wasn’t going to even say a word to him. He was being a fucking baby about all of this, and he was done with it. Yevgeny was _Mickey’s_ son, not Ian’s. Ian could pretend all he wanted that he was, just because he was around when Mickey couldn’t be, but that didn’t make him Yevgeny’s dad. He was a babysitter who overstayed his welcome. And it was time to go.

 

               It didn’t take long after Mickey decided to return Ian’s silent treatment for him to become angrier and less over the moon to see his former love. He’s sure he’ll always love Ian, he was a lot of firsts for him, but he didn’t want to play this game anymore. It was never easy with Ian Gallagher, and if he thought three years in prison would somehow make things easier, _boy_ was he wrong. This was such a fucked-up situation to be in. All Mickey had really wanted was to be back with Ian, and there was no way that was happening. Instead, Ian had more or less replaced Mickey in his own life, and he wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. He was done trying to get Ian to talk to him. He wasn’t going to mess around with Ian anymore or chase after someone who wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Mickey didn’t need that shit.

 

               Mickey was taking the situation back in his own hands, and more importantly, he was taking his life back from Ian. This was _his_ house, _his_ shit, Yevgeny was _his_ kid. If Ian didn’t want to be in his life, he couldn’t be in Yev’s because the two should go hand in hand. Ian couldn’t come around to hang out with _Mickey’s_ kid and do shit with him and still pretend like Mickey didn’t even exist. That’s not how this was going to work, not anymore. Mickey was dreading the conversation, not wanting to talk to Ian anymore, and knew it was going to be a nightmare to try to get Ian to listen to anything he had to say. Worse comes to worse, he’d end up having to tie Ian to a chair and force him to listen; and Mickey was not above this plan.

 

               Mickey had sat on the couch for almost half an hour, deep in thought, when, as if on que, the front door opened. He knew that Ian had taken Yev out after Mickey had already left for store; Svetlana told him he should go shopping while they were already out. His whole morning, Mickey had thought through a plan and just waited for Ian to come back. He sighed and stood up from the couch, mentally preparing himself. This was it, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

 

               Ian and Yevgeny came into the house, both with half eaten ice cream cones in hand. Yev walked fully into the house to sit himself at the kitchen table to keep eating. Ian closed the door but stood in the doorway, which, in of itself, Mickey thought was odd. Ian didn’t come into the house anymore, not when Mickey was present _. Doesn’t matter_. Ian looked at Mickey but didn’t look as mad or annoyed as usual. He wasn’t quite smiling, but he wasn’t scowling either. Mickey scratched his nose and moved closer to Ian, hoping not to make a scene in front of the kid.

 

               Ian took a single step back and eyed Mickey. Mickey hadn’t tried talking to him in a while, so what was this about? He was looking mad but apologetic. What happened?

 

               “We gotta talk, man,” Mickey started. Ian opened his mouth to say something, but Mickey shook his head and lifted his hands to stop him, assuming all Ian was going to do was protest. “No, seriously. This shit is outta hand, and I’m done with it. Yevgeny is my son, got it? I was gone, thanks for watchin’ him, bein’ his babysitter and shit, but I’m back now, so we don’t need you, okay?” Ian’s mouth was left hanging open and he just kept staring back at Mickey. _What_? He felt like he was stuck where he stood, and his blood was rushing in his ears, heart pounding.

 

               “W-what?” he breathed.

 

               “Fuck, Ian. You can’t see him anymore, okay? He’s my fuckin’ kid, and I don’t want you around him anymore.” It felt like a punch straight to Ian’s fucking gut, and he dropped his ice cream on the floor. The wind was completely knocked out of him. From behind him, Mickey heard one of the kitchen chairs scratch the hardwood, followed by quiet running. Yev came into the entryway of the home and grabbed on to Ian’s leg.

 

               “No! You can’t go, morkov’! I don’t want you to leave me!” Ian looked down to Yev, but lifted his eyes back to Mickey, still trying to grasp what the hell was going on. His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight.

 

               “Wh-why can’t I see him, Mickey?” Ian’s voice sounded weak and strained and he didn’t even care. His throat was dry and scratchy, and he could already feel tears building in his eyes.

 

               “He’s my fucking kid! He doesn’t need you, he needs his fucking dad. I’m better for him. You stole him once, how do I know you won’t pull that shit again? Your heads fucked, who knows what the hell you’d do.” That was strike one. Mickey immediately felt the anger diminish and pushed out by guilt. He didn’t want to bring that up, and he _never_ wanted to use Ian’s illness against him, but he couldn’t stop it from coming out. Maybe the more of a dick he was, the easier it would’ve been for Ian to stay away. Yevgeny looked confused and tilted his head up to look at Ian.

 

               “Morkov’?” Yevgeny whispered. Ian couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, could barely think. He felt the tears slipping down his face now. The one thing that worried Ian the most over the years was his bipolar acting up again, and having him do something to Yev that he’d regret. For Mickey to use that against him was a low blow, and they both knew it. Mickey had to still know how self-conscience he was about his mental state, and almost couldn’t believe that he’d say that. _Almost_. But, this was _Mickey_.

 

               “Come on, Yev. He’s gonna go. I got shit for dinner, and we can-“ Mickey started, reaching out to grab his son.

 

               “No!” The boy had yelled so loud he startled everyone. Iggy had come into the room to stand nervously behind Mickey, not liking what he was seeing. He knew this could get extremely out of hand very quickly. Yev was holding on even tighter to Ian’s leg, and it only made it harder for the man to try and leave. Ian held dark eye contact with Mickey for a second longer, and looked down to the child clinging to him. He felt his heart break apart the second he really looked at his face. Yevgeny has his own tears running down his red face. He looked so sad and hurt and Ian couldn’t handle it. He took a shaky breath and lowered himself onto his knees so he was level with Yev. He lifted his hands to wipe some of the tears off Yev’s face for him and moved them to rest on his small shoulders.

 

               “It’s okay, krolik. Nothing bad s’gonna happen to you, I promise. I’ll come back, okay? I’ll figure it out,” he was speaking quiet enough that he hoped Mickey couldn’t pick up on what he was saying. Yev stared back at him with eyes that were screaming everything was over. If he looked hard enough into the blue eyes, Ian swore he could see waves crashing hard enough onto shores to pull land into the ocean, slowly but destructively flooding the planet. If he was lucky, the water would pull him in, too.

 

               “N-no. Yo-you can’t l-leave me,” Yev stuttered weakly. With every word, Ian was pained even more, like they were knives stabbing him over and over again, but never enough to end it all, only enough to make him bleed out onto the floor and hurt. Ian shook his head to try to quiet him down.

 

               “I don’t want to, but I have to. He’s your dad, I gotta do what he says.” Yev lifted his small hands to catch Ian’s still falling tears, and everything in Ian broke. This was killing him, and he knew it was doing the same to Yev. Ian looked down at the ground, over to Mickey for a split second, and back to Yevgeny before continuing in Russian, “ **It won’t last, okay? Your mom won’t let him keep me away. He won’t hurt you though, okay? You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll come back soon, you just have to do what he says for now, okay?** ” Yev nodded reluctantly. **“He’s nothin’ but a goat, right?** ” Yevgeny laughed shortly and nodded, sniffing roughly. It was going to be rough, but they’d get through it; they always did. He pulled Yev into a hug, not wanting to let go, and kissed the side of his head loudly.

 

               Ian sighed and stood up. He looked passed Mickey to Iggy who looked worried and nodded his head to the door, silently asking if he needed to come out with Ian. Ian shook his head. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, not about this. He wanted to fight and yell and punch Mickey, but he couldn’t do that with a shaking Yev at his feet. Yevgeny was scared enough, Ian didn’t need to add to that. He looked at Mickey through narrow, hateful eyes. He looked him up and down before sneering in Russian, “Yebat', koza.” The tension thickened, and Yevgeny’s eyes widened, having never heard Ian cuss with some much malice before. Ian opened the door and walked out, slamming it behind him.

 

               Ian stood in front of the door on the front porch, gazing out into the empty street, and felt the emotions hit him twice as hard now that he was alone. He tried to drone out the faint cries and shouts he could hear from the other side of the door behind him. That was probably the last time he’d get to really see Yevgeny, at least till Svetlana came back. He should’ve hugged him longer, harder. He should’ve told him he loves him. Why didn’t he tell Yev he loves him? _Fuck._ He knew that Yevgeny knew Ian loved him, and just how much, but Ian knew it was always nice to hear it and be assured, especially at that age.

 

               This wasn’t fair. He had walked into the house planning on playing nice with Mickey; being civil with him for Yevgeny, so they could all make it through this. But then Mickey comes in, ruining everything with the snap of his fingers. _Typical Mickey_. He’d always have that control of Ian and his life, wouldn’t he? As long as Ian was in Chicago and Yev’s life, Mickey would find a way to worm himself in there and change things. He rubbed his eyes harshly, now not being able to see anything through the tears. He screamed loudly, not even able to care that everyone inside the house probably heard him, and walked down to the sidewalk. He was going to have to be spending even more time at home now, too and that made this whole thing even worse. He needed a hobby.

 

               When he finally made it back to his house, Ian took a deep breath and rubbed his face, checking for any fresh tears. He knew he had to look like complete shit, and he wasn’t really ready to be bombarded with questionings about his appearance. He pushed through the door and looked around for any sign of life. For half a second he thought maybe no one was home, and actually lead himself into believing such an absurd notion. But, before he made it past the couch, Fiona and Debbie were coming down the kitchen stairs with little Franny not far behind. Debbie saw him first, as usual, as he walked closer to the kitchen. “Ian!”  She greeted him with a tight hug. He always loved Debbie the most; she was definitely his favorite sibling. Maybe it was because she was the only one who always understood and supported him, the way he did for her. Or, maybe it was just because they were both ginger.

 

               “Hey, Debs,” he said softly, “and hey, Franny,” he laughed into the side of his sister’s head when he felt the little girl hugging his leg. He let go of Debbie and bent down to kiss the top of his niece’s head.

 

               “Hi, Uncle Ian!” she exclaimed sweetly.

 

               “Haven’t seen you here on a Saturday in a long time,” Fiona piped up from where she stood at the sink. _Here we go._ “Too busy with the other family to ever come see your real one?” Ian and Debbie both rolled their eyes, then tried stiflingly their laughs when they caught the other having the same reaction to Fiona.

 

               “I’m here all the time, I literally live here,” Ian stated as he sat at the kitchen bar, “Yev doesn’t have school on the weekends but Svet’s got work. Someone’s gotta watch him”

 

               “Are we still on for a park playdate tomorrow with you and Yev?” Debbie asked quickly, trying to cut Fiona off before she could even say anything, making her murmur something under her breath while she did dishes. Ian’s face dropped even further with sadness and unwarranted guilt. He shook his head softly as Debbie sat down on the stool next to him, having just sent Franny into the living room to play with her toys.

 

               “No, unfortunately. And, uh, we probably won’t for a while. At least not Yev, anyway.” Fiona turned to glance at her brother for the first time since his arrival, noting his downcast face and red-rimmed eyes. Debbie pulled a confused face.

 

               “What? Why?”

 

               “Well, uh, Svet had to go back to Russia for a while. She just left today. Something about her green card being invalid, I don’t know. And, then Mickey said-“

 

               “Mickey?” the sisters said together, Fiona fully facing her brother now. “What’s he got to do with it?” she asked. Ian scratched the back of his neck. He hadn’t really told his family these things. He’d usually tell Debbie during their play dates with the kids, but they haven’t had matching schedules since Mickey came back. And, he had felt more like suffering in silence with this whole situation, anyway. He looked at the washer and dryer in the corner to avoid of their blaring eye contact.

 

               “He came back. Got out early. A couple weeks ago, actually-“ Debbie smacked him in the arm, very hard, “I’m sorry! It’s been so fucking stressful having him back. He was trying so hard to talk to me and shit and I just didn’t want to, ya know?” He looked at both his sisters who nodded. He had started talking, and now he couldn’t stop, as he was more apt to do, lately. It was his conversation with Iggy all over again; maybe it _was_ good to talk. “He finally just left me alone. He stopped talking to me, usually just left the room when I was around.” He shrugged. “But then Lana left. I fucking decided I was gonna talk to him, work shit out.

 

               “We gotta be fucking adults about this shit, right? So, I was gonna talk to him and figure out a plan so we wouldn’t get in each other’s way or fight since I was gonna be over there more. But then I fucking walked in the house, with Yev, and he tells me I can’t see him anymore. That he’s his dad and I need to stop doing his job. That I’ve just been a fucking babysitter. He even said he doesn’t trust me with him because of my fucking bipolar and said I’d just steal him again or some shit. Right in front of Yev! Yev doesn’t know about that shit!” Ian could feel himself become more heated the more he let out and had to spot himself from talking anymore so he could calm himself. He didn’t feel sad like he did when he talked to Iggy, but he felt mad, _furious_. It was quiet for a moment before Fiona spoke.

 

               “Good.” Debbie and Ian both snapped their heads to look at her.

 

               “ _Good_?” Ian asked, shocked, with his eyebrows raised and his head titled forward.

 

               “Yeah, good. It’s shitty that he’s back, and it’s really fucking shitty that he threw your bipolar in your face like that, but I’m not sorry that he told you can’t see the kid anymore, and I don’t feel bad for you.” She stood up from where she was leaning her elbows and the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “How long have I been tellin’ ya it’s not your business? That you shouldn’t be wastein’ your time and money on them. You aren’t with Mickey anymore and it’s not like they’re payin’ ya. You’re not getting’ anything from it. You should’ve left years ago.” Ian eyed her, and Debbie just rolled her eyes again.

 

               “You’re still not our mom, Fiona, and we’re definitely old enough to _not_ have to listen to you,” said Debbie. She stood up and headed in the living room, going out the front porch to sit and wait. She knew Ian would come out eventually. It was the usually routine when they were at the house; one of them would fight with Fiona, sometimes Lip, and the other would go wait to hear the rest of the story and give real advice, not just yell. Somewhere between teen pregnancies and manic episodes, the two had become the family outcasts, but at least they had each other.

 

               “Fuckin’ bitch as always,” Fiona huffed.

 

               “She’s got a point, ya know? We’re adults. We can do whatever we want.” He stood up from his stool when her only response was an eyeroll, because Debbie was actually right, and she knew it. “Stop telling me I can’t help them if I’m not getting something out of it. Stop telling me to not help them anymore. You know I’m not going to leave them, so all you’re doing is making me resent you. At this rate, I’ll leave one day and never talk to you again.” He kept his head down as he walked passed the kitchen to meet Debbie outside. He knew Fiona’s face was probably sad and hurt, but he didn’t want to be guilted into feeling bad for what he said, even if it was a bit harsher than he had meant. He still got his point across. In this house, in this family, you had to have a little more heat behind your words to be taken seriously.

 

               “So, Mickey’s back?” Debbie asked the second he sat down on the top step next to her outside. He nodded his head and looked out into the street; apparently, he’s the stoic type today. “Did you miss him?” Ian huffed a dry laugh.

 

               “Fuck, Debs. Jump right in, why dontcha.”

 

               “It’s just that he was gone for a long time and now he’s back. Didn’t that bring up some feelings?” Ian nodded slightly.

 

               “Mostly annoyance and a new sense of loathing I didn’t know I was capable of.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked at his sister. “What am I gonna do, Deb? I was having a hard-enough time dealing with him being back in the first place, now he won’t even let me see Yevgeny.” Debbie shook her head.

 

               “It’s not fair that he can do that. What about Svetlana? She loves you and knows you’re good with Yev. Can’t she do something and let you see him?”

 

               “Yeah, she could, but I can’t get ahold of her until she gets back. The phone bill for international calls like that is insane.”

 

               “When does she come back?” Ian shrugged.

 

               “I don’t know. She didn’t know. She doesn’t know how long it’ll take for her to become a citizen or get a new card or whatever the hell happens when you’re an illegal Russian immigrant who was sold into America as a sex worker by her father when she was a kid.” The two laughed for a moment. You really did have to find the things to laugh about. That’s one thing you learn growing up Southside. There’s so much nasty shit you have to deal with that eventually you just make jokes about them. You can’t spend forever crying about the time your dad called CPS on his own kids, or the time your mom slit her wrists open in your kitchen on Thanksgiving, or the time your ex-boyfriend just beat the shit outta you for- Ian shook his head. You have to laugh at it all, because that’s one thing you’ll always have. You can’t take life so seriously all the time, and you have to make the jokes and laugh at your sad, pitiful life, because someone else is going to do it anyway, so you might as well beat ‘em to it. There’s no point in wallowing in self-pity all the damn time.

 

               “No chance on working it out?” Debbie asked when they quieted down. Ian thought on it. There _had_ been a chance. Ian was willing to be the bigger person, and attempt to patch things up with Mickey, but he blew that to shit. There was no way things would work now, and there was _no_ way he was going to be okay with Mickey for this, not for a long time, if ever.

 

               “Nah, not now. I’m gonna have to wait this shit out. Lana will fix it when she gets back, so I just gotta wait.” Debbie nodded next to him. He sighed and couldn’t help his thoughts traveling from a sad, scared Yevgeny, stuck in a house with practically a stranger, to said stranger, and all the ways Ian would kill him if he got his hands on him. A faint dinging noise pulled him from his thought, and he fished his phone out of his pocket. A smile grew on his face as he read the notification, and he looked back up to his sister. “Still down for a playdate tomorrow?”

 

 

⁂

 

 

               “Come on, kid. He ain’t comin’ back,” Mickey tried speaking as calmly as he could over the screams and cries, while practically prying his son off the door. He finally pulled him off and held him tightly to keep him from moving. “It’s okay, dude, chill the fuck out.” Mickey turned away from the front door, but stopped when he heard a loud shout from the other side. _Ian._ He rushed Yev to Iggy and peaked out behind the drapes of the window, just in time to see Ian passing the house on the sidewalk, tears glistening down his flushed face from the setting sun. Even _now_ he hated seeing Ian so hurt and broken, but this is what had to be done. He flung the curtain back to its resting spot and turned back his brother and son.

 

               “Bring him back!” Mickey could barely understand Yev though his sobs. He was still kicking and screaming and it was heartbreaking, sure, but the kid had to get over it. Not everything in life was rainbows and fuckin’ lollipops, and the sooner Yev realized, the better off he’d be. He didn’t need Ian to survive, he was going to be just fine. Mickey stepped in front of the boy and reached out to grab him from his uncle’s arms.

 

               “Come on, Yev. I’ll make us dinner and then we can-“

 

               “No!” Yev pulled back and Mickey flinched. “I don’t want you! I want morkov’!” Mickey scratched the side of his neck with his thumb.

 

               “Okay, I don’t fucking know what that is though, so maybe if you spoke a little English-“

 

               “It’s what he calls Ian,” Iggy said, looking down at his half-bent brother. Mickey winced and stood up.

 

               “Okay, well I can’t get you Ian, but I can-“

 

               “I hate you! I hate you!” Yevgeny chanted repeatedly. Every shout wounded Mickey even further. He didn’t want to hurt his kid, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help situation. This would benefit everyone, and he’s sure, one day, Yev won’t hate him anymore and they can have a real relationship. Never once in his life had Mickey thought about having a kid, and then he had one. And when he did, he never thought he’d have or even want a real relationship with the thing, but the day that Ian took Yevgeny to run off to Florida, he knew he actually did love that kid. He felt it in the panic that took over his body when he saw Ian speeding off in the car with his baby, and in the relief that flooded him when the officer handed him his son back. For a moment in that police station, Mickey felt like he could hold onto that baby forever. Now he kind of wished he had.

 

               Even so, right now, he couldn’t handle this shit. There had been this dark, heavy cloud hanging over Mickey’s head since his first encounter with Ian when he came home, and every day since it just grew and grew, threatening to give out any minute. And, today, it did. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the cold, wet rain that he really thought was drenching him now, leaving him a sopping mess. The downpour soaking him was only making him more upset. Why couldn’t things just fucking work out for him already? He couldn’t hold his anger in anymore. “Yeah? Well, ya know what? I kinda fuckin’ hate you too, right now.” _Strike two_. The second he saw Yev’s mouth close and more tears slip from his sad, wide eyes, Mickey regretted his words. You can’t say that shit to a kid, but he still had let it slip. Why did he keep fucking his life up? Yev went limp in Iggy’s arms, not fighting anymore, just looking broken.

 

               Growing up, Mickey lost track of how many times anyone, especially his father, told him they hated him. He rarely, if ever, heard something remotely as nice as ‘I love you’ but knew things were different for Yevgeny. He knew no one had ever told the pale child they hated him. They may still be in Southside, they may still be in the old Milkovich house, but Yevgeny’s situation was better than Mickey could have ever dreamed for himself. He knew it was much harder for a boy like Yev to hear someone say those words to him, especially an adult, _especially_ his father. Mickey sighed and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “Look, kid, I’m-“

 

               Yevgeny jumped down from Iggy’s now lose grip, and ran down the hallway to his room, slamming the door as hard as his skinny arms would let him. Iggy gave a pointed look at his brother and shook his head disappointingly. “Not cool man…” he trailed quietly.

 

               “I know, I fucking know,” Mickey sighed before yelling, “Fuck!” He kicked the coffee with the flat of his foot, pushing it across the room aggressively and knocking a few things off the surface, and dropped his head into his hands, falling back onto the couch. “What the fuck am I doing? I can’t be a dad. Day one and I ruined his fucking life already.” Iggy scratched the back of his neck and sat down on the arm of the couch, on the side furthest side from Mickey.

 

               “You really wanna be a dad, man?” Mickey dropped his hands from his face and stared at the ceiling.

 

               “I don’t fuckin’ know. I thought I didn’t, then I thought I did. Now I just don’t him to hate me.”

 

               “You gonna let Ian see him again?” Mickey snapped his head up and towards Iggy.

 

               “Fuck no, man. He’s out, he’s done. He’s not comin’ back s’long as I got shit to say about it,” Mickey pushed out harshly. Iggy nodded reluctantly, but frowned the second Mickey looked away. He really hated what Mickey was doing, almost using Yevgeny as a pawn in his and Ian’s ‘relationship’, or whatever the fuck this thing was anymore, but knew better than to pick a fight with him about it. This wasn’t fair to Ian and it wasn’t fair to Yevgeny. It was wrong to keep the two apart, but there wasn’t much he could do. _Much_ , but not nothing.

 

               “You gotta figure this shit out, man,” Iggy sighed and stood from the couch. He turned to walk away but sighed again and looked back at Mickey’s deflated form. “I’m off tonight, so I’ll be in my room if you need help with him,” he offered and walked away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and shot a text off to Ian, a plan in motion. Before heading into his own room, he stopped by Yev’s, and found the boy on the floor, sadly playing with toy dinosaurs Ian had got him for his last birthday. “Hey, man,” he said as he closed the door.

 

               “Hi,” Yev sighed quietly, not looking up from his toys.

 

               “So,” Iggy started, sitting on Svetlana’s bed, as it was now in the cramped room and closer to the door (Svetlana had begun sharing Yev’s room when Mickey came back, not having the time to clear out the only other free room in the house, that was used to house useless junk), “I was thinkin’ of goin’ to the park tomorrow.” Yevgeny showed no sign of interest. “You can come if you want to,” he eyed Yev, still unmoved, “but, ya know, I guess if not, it’ll just me and Ian, and I’ll just tell him you said-“

 

               “Ian’s going to the park?” Yev practically yelled and jumped up, plastic dinosaurs forgotten in a pile. Iggy nodded, smug smile plastered on his face. “Can I still come?” asked Yevgeny, jumping up and down.

 

               “Of course, little man. But, here’s the deal, okay? You can’t tell your dad. It’s gotta be a secret. He’ll be _real_ fuckin’ mad if he finds out, kay?” Yevgeny nodded in understanding and turned around to pick up his toys and shove them in Iggy’s face.

 

               “Can I bring these to play with Ian?” Iggy laughed and ruffled the kid’s hair.

 

               “Whatever you want. But until then, try to be nice to your dad, okay?” Yevgeny lowered his hands and his face dropped. “I know it’s hard and you’re mad at him, but wanna know a secret? I’m kinda mad at him, too.”

 

               “Really?” Iggy nodded and hummed.

 

               “Mhm. I don’t think he shoulda told Ian he can’t see you. But, I can’t fight with him, because he’s my brother. And, he’s your dad. Just let him make his shitty rules, and me and Ian will fix it. We’ll even get your mom involved if we have to.” Yevgeny nodded brightly. He sat back down on the ground to play with his toys, reaching the end of the short road with this attention span. Iggy got up and left the room, leaving the door half opened, and retreated to his own room, poking his head in on Mickey on his way.

 

               Mickey was still sitting on the couch, sulking. He didn’t know how he was supposed to fix this, if he even could or wanted to. ‘Fixing it’ felt like it meant bringing Ian back, and that was not an option at this point. There had to be a way to make things less tense around here, and then maybe they could move on from all this shit. Mickey sighed and stood up from the couch. All the sudden he felt old and tired and he could actually feel and hear his joints creaking as he stretched out.

 

               He made his way into Yevgeny and Svetana’s room and popped his head in, finding his son on the floor playing with a pile of toys. “Hey, man, uh, I was gonna make dinner, do you like mac and cheese?” Yev looked up to his dad with a scowl, but slowly tried to reign it back, remembering what his uncle told him. He still didn’t trust this man and still didn’t want to be friends with him, but he wanted to see Ian tomorrow, so he’d skate by with the bare minimum in pleasantries. He nodded and looked back down to his toys. “O…kay…” Mickey backed out of the room awkwardly. That hadn’t gone as bad as he was expecting, but certainly weirder than he was hoping for.

 

               The rest of the night went similarly. There was this heavy feeling settled in around the three Milkovich males, like an unwarranted, thick fogged had rolled in and was asserting itself as the newest house guest. No one really talked, at least not while Mickey was present, just like always. Yev refused to look at or acknowledge his dad, no matter how hard the man tried to start up a conversation. Iggy spent most of the night just looking back and forth between the two of them hoping nothing serious would come of this.

 

               The only real hiccup came when it was time to put the child to bed. Mickey didn’t know Yevgeny’s routine yet, so he wasn’t able to put him down properly. Every time he tried to do something, Yev just said no and his tantruming would start anew. He refused to tell Mickey how he usually went to bed though, so, an hour later, an over frustrated Mickey stormed out of the bedroom, not wanting to start yelling at his son anymore, told Iggy to deal with him, and locked himself in his room for the rest of the night.

 

               Today had been a complete disaster. This was gonna be where Mickey made his move, and became the dad that he always wanted for himself. Instead, he became the dad he _did_ have. That thought made him sick to his stomach. He thought back to every bad memory of Terry he could reach, and replaced his dad’s face with his own and his face with Yev’s. Would he ever send his son out to do his biddings and collections? Would he ever beat the shit out of his son, not once, but multiple times for being gay? Would he force a whore to rape his son in hopes to fuck the gay out of him? Mickey shook his head, staring at himself in the mirror of his small bathroom as he breathed heavily and clenched the sink with tight, white knuckles.

 

 _No_. Terry did all that shit because he didn’t care about or love Mickey. No way. Terry did the shit he did because he was a sad, pathetic, excuse of a man; he beat on his kids ‘cause they were easy targets and fucked his daughter because no women low enough in squalor or otherwise could find him attractive enough. Terry took his anger and insecurities out on his kids and ruined them. Mickey was doing this because it he _did_ love his son. He did. Maybe he wasn’t the best at showing it, but only one person had ever showed him what love was supposed to look and feel like, and that hadn’t turned out so well. He didn’t have the best examples in his life, and that was nothing he could help. So, Mickey couldn’t _completely_ be faulted. He knew his mistakes, maybe not right away, but he knew them. He tried to be better than what he was taught, but that was hard when you only knew one way.

 

               Mickey did what he did because it was in the best interest in his son, at least that’s what he thought, so wasn’t that enough to separate the two? Mickey was _not_ Terry. Mickey would _never_ be Terry. He would take everything Terry had ever thrown at him and his siblings, and turn it around, learning from his father’s mistakes and doing better by his own son. He didn’t want the kid to have to grow up and live the way he did, and while he may not be at the best start, he was going to work harder on that. Maybe Mickey Milkovich wasn’t cut out for fatherhood, but he sure as fuck didn’t give up so easily, either. This was going to be fucking hard, but he’d do.


	5. Chapter 5

**_ Chapter Five _ **

 

 

 

 

                Mickey woke up the next morning to the sound of muffled pounding. He slowly stirred, not wanting to wake up, and when he did come to his senses, he realized it was the sound of feet running circles on the hardwood flooring outside his bedroom door. He lifted his head to tiredly look at the clock, reading eight-thirty-seven. _What the fuck?_ He sighed heavily and dramatically, and pulled himself up off the bed, so slow and pained. He looked around his room with half opened eyes, looking for sweat pants or something that he can could pull on, and stepped out of his room when he finally did.

 

                Iggy was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of some sugary cereal while leafing through a magazine. Yevgeny was running around through the kitchen and living room, laughing and sometimes shouting, with a couple of toys in his hands. “Too fuckin’ early for that shit, kid,” grumbled Mickey while padding into the kitchen and dug around for a minute. He wasn’t usually much of a coffee drinker unless he needed to be, and it looked like he did. Luckily, or maybe unluckily as he’d find out soon, a pot had already been made that morning. It wasn’t even warm by this point, and Mickey almost gagged when he took a swig of it; but, he powered through.

 

Yev didn’t seem to notice, or maybe just didn’t care, that his dad had entered the room at all, let alone was talking to him. “What’s his fuckin’ problem,” Mickey asked over his mug when he sat down next to his brother at the table.

 

                “I’m takin’ him out, he gets excited when you take him out.” Iggy didn’t even look up from his food, and mickey just nodded, watching his son play around, pretending he was being chased by some dinosaur or something from the sounds of it.

 

                “Where ya goin’? Want me to come? Help with him?” Iggy shifted in his seat and coughed into his elbow. _Here we go._

 

                “I don’t know, man? Think that’s a good idea? We’re probably just gonna see a movie or something, and he’s still not really wantin’ to see ya,” he spoke carefully. He didn’t want to offend his brother any more than he probably was when it came to his son, but he knew Mickey couldn’t come with them, not when they were meeting up with Ian.

 

                “Yeah, sure, what the fuck ever.” Mickey finished off the rest of his coffee, giving him an excuse to stand up from the table. He didn’t bother putting his mug in the sink, or even looking back at his brother and son, and just went into his room to shower and change into real clothes for his day. He was too annoyed to deal with this shit so early. He didn’t really like Iggy taking over for Ian and acting like Yev’s dad, but it was obviously going to be a minute before Yevgeny was comfortable around Mickey.

 

                “Can we go see morkov’ now?” Yevgeny whispered, having snuck up on Iggy when Mickey closed his bedroom door. Iggy jumped slightly and looked down at the dirty-blonde boy. He shoveled what was left in his milky bowl and stood up, nodding.

 

                “Yeah, let’s go see him,” said Iggy through a mouthful of soggy cereal. He pushed back in his chair and stood up from the table, his foot narrowly missed catching Yev and tripping on him. He tossed the bowl in the sink and grabbed Yev from behind. “Ready to go party with our boy?” He pulled him up on his shoulders while Yev cheered and clapped his toys together.

 

                “Morkov’! Morkov’!” Yev cheered all the way out of the front door, down the sidewalk, and across the street, until Iggy had to finally ask him to stop through laughter. The Milkovich boys stayed quiet for the majority of the walk, save for every so often Iggy would tilt his body into the street, pretending to drop Yev, always pulling a scream-laugh from the kid. The closer they got the park, the more Iggy could feel Yevgeny buzzing above him, practically vibrating like a cell phone by the time they reached the large, grassy, inclined patch surrounding the park. They approached a picnic table where Debbie and Ian were sitting side by side, facing the playground where Franny was, and their backs to the boys. “I wanna scare him,” Yevgeny whispered into his ear.

 

                He nodded and stopped walking to pull him down. He stayed back for a minute, watching Yev tip-toe to sneak up behind Ian, and eventually started walking even slower, taking his time. Yev stopped just a few feet short of the table, and ran back to Iggy with outstretched arms. “You gotta hold these,” he stated and handed his two dinosaurs to Iggy, turning around, and running back carefully. He slowed down, walking on his tip toes again in the tall, dewy grass. When Yev was finally behind Ian, and Debbie since they were sitting on the same side of the bench, he crouched down, took a deep breath, pulling back to release a loud, high-pitched screech, jumping and throwing his arms over his head. Debbie let out a frightened yelp, and her and Ian both jumped a foot off the bench and turned around. Debbie put her hand over her chest and leaned her left arm on the table to steady herself, while Ian smiled widely and turned to stand up.

 

                “I scared you,” Yevgeny shouted when Ian was standing up right.

 

                “Ya sure did, krolik, now it’s time for payback,” Ian said, still smiling. He ran forward and swooped Yevgeny up in his arms, throwing him over his left shoulder with easy. He tickled his sides and legs relentlessly, causing Yev to squirm around in his strong arms.

 

                “No, morkov’! Stop!” Yevgeny gasped through his hard laughter.

 

                “Okay, okay, I’ll show you mercy this time, but you better watch yourself,” Ian warned jokingly and put Yev down, kissing his head when his feet touched grass. Iggy had come over to sit at the table across from Debbie, where the two were chatting lightly now. Ian sat back down on the bench, facing away from the table so he could look at Yevgeny, who was still stood behind him, and propped his elbows on the surface behind him, leaning back into it.

 

                “Will you come play with me?” the boy asked sweetly, pointing his best begging eyes at the ginger, who would give in so easily.

 

                “In a bit, okay? I promise. I’m gonna talk to Igg and figure this stuff with your dad out, but then we’ll play, kay?” Yev’s face dropped a bit, but it perked up when Ian lightly kicked his foot out to lightly connect with his shin. “Franny s’out there,” he said pointing his head backwards, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Yevgeny blushed and made a grumpy face.

 

                “Morkov’! Stop! I don’t like-“ Ian raised his eyebrows and smirked, not needing to look over his shoulder to know what had caused Yev’s eyes to slip to something behind him.

 

                “Hi, Yev!” Franny shouted from the top of the parks smallest slide. Yev was smiling slowly, looking back and forth between the girl and Ian.

 

                “I’m gonna-“

 

                “Yeah, yeah, go get her.” Yev beamed like the sun and ran around the picnic table to meet his friend just as she was standing up from the woodchips where the slide spit her out.

 

                “They’re gonna get married one day,” Debbie spoke up as the three adults looked on to the children, Ian turning around to sit normally at the table again.

 

                “Yeah they fuckin’ will. You Gallaghers like you some Milkovich,” Iggy laughed, turning to face the others fully again. Ian nodded reluctantly with his face screwed up like the smell of a dumpster was wafting his way.

 

                “Yeah, you might wanna actually warn Franny about him,” Ian nudged his sister, who shook her head at him.

 

                “He’s probably the best one outta the bunch. Besides, I’ve been giving him dirty looks so he thinks I don’t like him. Then he’ll be so scared of me he won’t want to mess with her.” Iggy and Ian stared at her with semi wide eyes.

 

                “Debbie-“ Ian was cut off.

 

                “I mean not really. Well, kind of, but he needs to know not to fuck with her.”

 

                “They’re actual children, they can barely walk in a straight line. Franny s’literally three-years-old,” he defended with a laugh.

 

                “They start younger every year, Ian. I think you should try to keep up, make sure Yev doesn’t go out knockin’ up random girls.” Ian started laughing again and shook his head.

 

                “Parenthood s’really changed ya, Debs,” he chuckled while she rolled her eyes. It was so funny to watch Debbie get so protective and defensive over her daughter in a way she used to bitch about Fiona doing to her. She was a good mom, albeit with a rocky start and still some rough patches, but she loved her daughter and kept her safe. “How’d it go last night?” Ian nodded his head at Iggy after a couple of silent minutes. Iggy tilted his head from side to side.

 

                “Well Yev freaked the fuck out immediately. Kicking, screaming, everything. Had to hold him down while Mick tried to talk to him and calm him down but he didn’t care. Kept sayin’ he didn’t want him, just you. Then he said he hated Mickey, and Mickey got fucking mad and said he hated him too. Then it was just awkward all night and this morning. He couldn’t get him to go to bed, either, and Yev wasn’t tellin’ him shit about the routine so I put him down.”

 

                “He really fucking told his four-year-old son he hated him?” Iggy winced at the bitterness of Ian’s tone.

 

                “I mean he tried to say he was sorry. I don’t think he actually meant it, he was just mad, you know hoe he-” Ian cut him and shook his head. He knew Iggy was Mickey’s brother, so obviously they had to stick up for each other, but he wasn’t going to sit and listen to Iggy make up excuses for Mickey saying something so nasty to his child.

 

                “That’s no excuse. What the fuck is his problem?” Ian bit. Debbie shrugged next to him, and he turned to look at her when she started talking.

 

                “I mean I get it-“

 

                “Don’t you start defending him too, Debs, you’re _my_ sister, remember?”

 

                “No, I’m not defending him, he’s doing really dumb shit right now. But, hear me out; he comes back and tries to be a dad to his kid, and probably thinks he’s still got a chance with you, only to find out you hate him, are a better dad than him, and his son wants you over him. He’s probably sad or something,” Debbie argued, hoping her point was reaching her brother fully.

 

                “Yeah, he needs to get the fuck over it,” he turned his attention to Iggy, crossing his arms on the table and leaning on them, tipping his head forward in a nod, with raised brows. “I was gonna tell him I’m willing to work with him while Svet’s gone and shit. Be the fuckin’ bigger man here, and fix this shit. But then he pulls that? Not cool. He’s being a fucking baby about this shit.”

 

                “And you’re not?” Iggy laughed. Debbie nodded in a reluctant agreement, and Ian scoffed in offense.

 

                “Excuse me?”

 

                “I’m serious, man, your solution to all this shit was ignore him, and talk in Russian around him so he can’t understand you. And you got the whole house doing it now. Little kids do that shit when they don’t want their parents to know what they’re saying or are fuckin’ bulling a kid from school and shit.” Ian eyed his friend and pulled back to glance at his sister.

 

                “You think that too?” Debbie shrugged one shoulder lightly.

 

                “I think you’re going about this the wrong way. I get why you’re mad, especially now, but you should’ve talked to him right when he came back. You should’a sat him down and told him you don’t want to be with him and you’re there for Yev. He could’a had his blow up early on, with Svet there to make sure he didn’t pull this shit,” she gestured to Iggy and the playground behind him where the kids were chasing each other, “and everything would’ve been be okay by now. You guys might’ve even been friends or something.”

 

                Ian had begun shaking his head, not even grasping anymore of what she was saying, not caring enough. “He’d still pull this shit, you know that. He always throws a fit when he doesn’t get what he wants.” Ian shook his head again, at himself this time. Why, _why_ , was this shit happening? He’s young, he shouldn’t want to get out of his twenties so fast in hope that older age will calm his life, but he can’t wait for the days that all he has to worry about is deciding what he’s going to eat for lunch. This Mickey thing was aging him to no end. “Too late for that shit,” he said quietly. He stared down at a spot on the wooden picnic table and could actually feel his company tense and shift around him. He sighed and looked back at them. “What?” Debbie and Iggy looked at each other, Debbie looked back at him and gave him a pained look.

 

                “You really need to talk to him,” she said while Iggy nodded along. Ian didn’t like how close _they’ve_ gotten, and they always seemed to back each other up when confronting Ian. “He’s gonna keep doing this, probably till Svetlana comes back. You really gonna go around moping until then?”

 

                “I’m not moping,” Ian tried, slowly sitting up when he noticed his slouching posture.

 

                “You literally sat in the living room the whole time I was over last night, and didn’t talk. Ya just moped.”

 

                “I was just annoyed with Fiona, I wasn’t moping-“

 

                “Oh, shut up, Ian. You _were_ moping because you want to be just as big a baby as Mickey is,” Debbie started, taking Ian off guard with her annoyed tone. “You need to stop sitting around complaining about him and just do something already. Shit doesn’t fix itself. Man up, and do something. You can’t expect- Franny! Get your ass down,” she shouted, causing everyone’s attention to shift to Franny, where she was climbing up the stairs to the big slide, Yevgeny waiting for her at the top. She pushed off the bench in a huff and went to retrieve her daughter, other parents staring at her. “Fuckin’ Milkovichs,” she bit under her breath, knowing all too well that the big slide was Yevgeny’s idea. Iggy kept his eyes Debbie her until she was at the slide.

 

                “Man, she’s really-“ Ian cut him off, already knowing where this was going.

 

                “Don’t.” Iggy turned back around and eyed Ian innocently.

 

                “You don’t even know what I-“ Ian rolled his eyes and shook his head.

 

                “Please stop trying to fuck my little sister.” Iggy tipped his head to the side, pulling his lips tightly over his teeth and in his mouth, holding back a smirk.

 

                “You fucked my little brother,” he argued.

 

                “Man, you’re a real fucking treat today, aren’t ya?” Ian sighed, looking back to his sister who was making her way back over to them.

 

                “She’s got a point though. You gotta fuckin’ do somethin’, man-“ Iggy started before Debbie cut him off, sitting back down next to Ian.

 

                “And, the longer this shit goes on, the longer it effects Yev, too. It’s not just you and Mickey anymore. You guys can’t do shit like you used to, because it hurts him, too. And this isn’t all Mickey’s fault. He’s not the only one to blame about all of it anyway. I mean, why are you _this_ mad at him?” Ian huffed and stood up. He knew he had just as much a part in this as Mickey, but didn’t want to get into _why_ right now. He didn’t want to go out of his way to talk to Mickey and work things out, not after all this shit, too. He wanted to just completely ignore the fuck, and act like he didn’t even exist. Regardless of what he needed, wanted, or planned on doing, Ian was done with this conversation.

 

                “Whatever. I’m done with him and his shit. I’ve been done with his shit for a long time, I’m not going to jump back into it. I’m gonna play with Yev because who knows the next time I’ll get to see him.” He scooted out of the picnic table and walked right to the playground without looking at his friend or sister. The abandoned party looked at each other sadly.

 

                “He’s not gonna do shit and neither is Mickey. We gotta do something,” Debbie said softly.

 

                “I don’t know. Not a lot we can do,” Iggy shrugged.

 

                “I’ll keeping talking to Ian, you talk to Mickey. They just gotta talk to each other and stop being babies. I’m sick of the complaining and everything.” Iggy rolled the thought over in his head. They both were so sick of all this childish shit. Things were actually easier when Mickey was trying desperately to talk to Ian, because at least then they hadn’t gotten the kid involved. This was all so tiring for everyone, and it needed to stop, she was right about that, at least. He sighed and nodded, giving in to the weak spot he had for Debbie, Ian _and_ Mickey.

 

                “Morkov’!” Yev shouted as Ian had approached the kids. They both ran to him, each hugging his legs.

 

                “Hey guys, wanna go on the swings?” Like he had to ask. Almost immediately, both the kids jumped up, chanting for the swings. He laughed and reached down to scoop both kids up, one in each arm. He swung the two laughing children all the way to the swings, where he sat them each down, pulled them both back, and let them go. He couldn’t help but smile at their giggles the higher he pushed them. A little girl, a bit older then Franny and Yev, ran past them with a man, presumably her dad, walking behind her, glancing up to smile and nod at Ian, who returned the gesture.

 

                “Is kozel gonna let you see me again?” Yevgeny snapped his attention. Ian’s glad he can’t see Yev’s face or that Yev can’t see his cfd, because he knows they’re both sad and heart breaking.

 

                “Uh, no, not yet. But Igg’s gonna try to sneak you out like this so we can still hang out. You’ll still see me, okay? Don’t worry about all that adult stuff, kay? I’ll figure it out.” He could see Yevgeny nodding as best he could through the whipping air of swinging. He really did feel bad for doing all this to the boy, especially now that Debbie had brought it up. If he thought up it, this _was_ his fault, too. Maybe had he not been so bitter and petty towards Mickey when he came back, things wouldn’t have gone so far. But, Mickey also shouldn’t have jumped to taking him away from Yevgeny before he got a chance to work things out. Ian should’ve worked things out sooner, though. _Fuck._

 

                He had been zoning out, pushing the kids while thinking about what he should’ve done with Mickey and how it would’ve helped, that he didn’t even notice a man come stand next to him, pushing a little girl on the swing in front of him. “Hey, they yours?” he asked, nodding to Yevgeny and Franny, who were trying to grab each to her hands in the air, giggling again. Ian looked at the man blankly, forgetting he was out in public, and looked back at the kids for a second. He shook his head, emptying all thoughts of Mickey out through his ear and snapping himself back to reality.

 

                “Oh, oh, no. That one’s my niece, and the other is my friend’s son,” he explained pleasantly. The man nodded, and Ian realized it was the guy who walked passed them when they first got to the swings. He was a good-looking guy, probably in his thirties, with glasses and messy blonde-brown hair that almost reached his shoulders.

 

                “S’my daughter,” the man continued, nodding now to the girl he was pushing, who was looking to her left at Yev and Franny, who were still kicking their feet and laughing.

 

                “She’s cute,” Ian smiled, not really knowing what to say. The man stuck his hand out to Ian, turning and leaning a bit to reach him better.

 

                “Mark,” he introduced himself. Ian slowly reached his hand at to shake the man’s.

 

                “Ian.”

 

                “Nice to meet ya, Ian. You guys come around here often?” Ian scratched the back of his neck and turned his attention back to pushing the kids on the swings. What was this guy gettin’ at?

 

                “Uh, sometimes. When we can, I guess.” He tried to not leave any openings for the man, _Mark_ , to keep engaging him. He didn’t know if Mark was really trying to come on to him, was a really creepy dude, or was just being nice and friendly. He was hoping for the latter, but it wasn’t lookin’ like it.

 

                “We come here pretty often. We live right across the street, so it’s close.” Ian just nodded mindlessly, hoping lack of interest and responses would get the guy to take the hint. “We’re not doin’ anything after this, just gonna make some lunch back at the house, if you guys wanna come eat. Kids can play or whatever, and we could-“

 

                “Look man,” Ian sighed and stopped the swinging kids by grabbing the chains, much to their disappointment. “I appreciate it, really do, very flattering, but I don’t go to the park to pick up dudes I wanna screw in the other room of my kids.” He reached down and picked up the kids, one on each hip. He really wanted to give the guy more shit, cuss him out or something, he already needed to let off some steam, but he didn’t want to do it in front of the kids. Instead, Ian walked right passed Mark and his daughter, and made his way back to Debbie and Iggy, who were chatting away happily. “Let’s get outta here. We can go get lunch or something.”

 

                “Why? We haven’t been here that long,” Debbie asked carefully, noticing Ian’s uneasy air about him.

 

                “Let’s just fuckin’ go,” he sighed, sitting Franny down in the stroller next to Debbie, and bringing Yev onto his shoulders. He moved across the grass to wait for the others on the sidewalk. He just wasn’t in a good mood anymore and wanted to get food in his system.

 

                “What did that guy want?” Yevgeny asked from atop Ian’s head. He thought about it for a minute while they paced a short distance in front of a couple cars. He couldn’t very well say something too honest. ‘He wanted to fuck while you sat in the other room.’ The idea brings Ian back to bad memories. Memories of Ian jacking off randos out in a parking lot with Yevgeny right next to them in the stroller, or Ian leaving Yevgeny in the car while he went off to fuck some other strangers. It was a dark time in his life when he was doing that shit; all his better judgement darkly clouded by bipolar, but he had still done that shit. He would never do something even remotely close to his old self, and while those memories still scared him and made him think one day he could end up there again, he tried to use them as an added reminder on the days he didn’t want to take his meds.

 

                Still, he tried to stay honest with Yev, and not keep things from him or alter the truth. He didn’t want to shield him from the real world and its ugliness, or fill his head with lies, but still wanted to protect him. It was a weird, happy medium to be found, and Ian had no real examples of it from his own parents, so it was hard to find when dealing with the boy. Yev didn’t even know Ian was gay. Sometimes he felt bad about it, keeping something so big from him, but it never really comes up. Ian hadn’t been seeing anyone or even trying to, so there was never a time he felt he needed to introduce someone to the kid or tell him about his sexuality. Ian had only been with two other people since his time with Mickey. One was a cheater and a liar, and the other one was just too arrogant for Ian, and always made him feel like he was better than Ian. He ended up breaking this off with hat guy when his attitude was too much to handle, and he realized he’d be spending so much time helping Svetlana, he wasn’t able to see him as often.

 

Yevgeny was young, he probably wouldn’t understand such things, yet, anyway. And, now wasn’t really the time to try and explain. “Just wanted to hang out, but I wanted to hang out with you before you gotta go home,” he settled for. Yev hummed above him and began swinging his feet lightly.

 

                “I don’t wanna go home. Can’t I stay with you?” Ian stopped walking and grabbed Yev’s ankles to hold them affectionately. This was breaking his heart. And, _Ian_ caused this. Debbie was right. He should’ve just started talking to Mickey from the beginning. Why had he acted just as childish? This _did_ effect Yevgeny, and that wasn’t fair.

 

                “I’m sorry, krolik, I don’t think that would work so well. Your dad wouldn’t want you over at my house.”

 

                “We could tell him I’m goin’ somewhere else, he doesn’t have to know,” Ian chuckled and shook his head.

 

                “No, that’s lying, you can’t lie to your dad.”

 

                “But, we lied to him today. Iggy told him we were seeing a movie.” Ian frowned. He felt even more guilty. Now he was making it so Yev had to lie to his dad, and think it was okay. Ian knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to actually tell Mickey what was going on, but he definitely didn’t want to teach him to lie like that. _God_ , this whole thing was just a snowballing mess that kept getting worse and worse, with no sign of slowing down.

 

                “Okay, well, we can’t do that anymore, kay? No more lying.”

 

                “Do I tell him I played with you today?” Ian huffed. Kids were damn complicated.

 

                “Fuck, I don’t know. Just go along with whatever your uncle says.” Yev nodded and Ian turned around to see Iggy and Debbie coming down the grassy slope, pushing Franny along.

 

                “Where do you wanna eat?” Debbie asked when the group started walking together.

 

 

⁂

 

 

                After they had chosen a cheap diner down the street from the park, in which Yevgeny fell asleep halfway through his cheeseburger, and Franny threw a tantrum when she ate all her fries, they lingered outside to say their goodbyes. Ian was carrying Yev’s sleeping form, resting his head on Ian’s shoulder. He didn’t want to hand him off to Iggy at all. He didn’t know how long it would be before he got to see the boy again, but he knew it would be too long. He wished he could go back with them, or bring him back to his house like Yev asked for, but there was no way.

 

                “If you gotta lie to Mickey to get him out to see me, just don’t do it all. I’d rather wait to see him than having him think it’s cool to lie, especially to his dad,” he said to Iggy, careful not to wake up Yev.

 

                “You sure, man? I don’t know when Lana’s comin’ back. You might have to wait this shit out a while.”

 

                “Yeah. We’ll be okay,” Ian whispered, looking down at Yev’s calm face. The words were mostly to soothe himself. This felt more final and absolute then when he had left the house yesterday. Yesterday, he didn’t grasp the fact that he was being kicked out of Yev’s life. But, now, if felt like was really saying goodbye, and it honest to God hurt.

 

                “I was gonna see if you wanted to meet us down the street tomorrow morning when I’m walkin’ him to school, but I gotta take Mick and a fuckin’ note that Lana wrote sayin’ he can pick him up and shit. He’s not gonna wanna pick him up and shit every day, though, so I’ll text you when it’s just me, and the next time we can get out.” Iggy said, reaching for Yev. Ian reluctantly lifted the child and passed him to Iggy, kissing his head gently on the way.

 

                “Fuckin’ sucks,” he choked, clearing his throat to stop any tears that were working up behind his eyes.

 

                “I know, man. But, it won’t last, right?” Ian chuckled darkly and lightly punched his shoulder.

 

                “Yeah, whatever.” He smiled and looked down at Yevgeny again before turning around to meet back with his sister and niece. “Gonna take off?” he asked with a tight-lipped smile.

 

                “Yeah,” she sighed, “but we can walk for a bit.” Ian nodded and fell in step with her. They were quiet for a while, but Ian could tell Debbie wanted to say something. He didn’t want to get in to the whole Mickey thing again; it’s all anyone’s been wanting to talk about with him, and it was annoying. But, he knew it didn’t matter. If they didn’t get into now, they would later; she’d probably fucking call him tonight and start going off. He couldn’t keep running away from the problem itself, he unquestionably couldn’t keep running from the conversations.

 

                “Just say it,” he sighed. Debbie turned to him like she was going to play dumb, so he just shook his head. “I know you want to say shit, just say it.”

 

                “You just need to think about what you’re doing more. You’re just going about this with an almost reckless abandon, and not caring what shit you start because of it-“

 

                “That’s not what I’m doing. I do care about what I’m doing, that’s why I was gonna try and talk to Mickey yesterday. You were on my side yesterday, what happened?” Debbie shook her head. From the stroller, quiet snores were filtering out from a now snoozing Franny.

 

                “I still am, but, come on, Ian. You thought ignoring him was the best solution, and look where that got you. That messes with Yev, too. Like, what about him?”

 

                “What about him,” he asked while they waited for a car to pass so they could cross the street.

 

                “You know what about him. You really gonna keep this shit up and mess with him like that? I know you’re not doing it on purpose, but he’s just a kid. That shit fucks them up bad. Look at us.” Ian huffed a laugh.

 

                “Yeah look at us.” He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “When we were kids and, like, the older we got, I had this thought that if I had my own kids, I’d treat them better. I mean, I’m sure we all have, you did, remember?” Debbie nodded.

 

                “Yeah, can’t blame me though. Didn’t want another Frank or Monica jumping in and fucking up Franny. I _had_ to be better.” Ian nodded back at her in agreement and understanding, only scrunching his nose at the mention of his mother.

 

                “Yeah, exactly. We saw first-hand how shitty all that is, we didn’t want to pass it on. So, I wanted to be better if I got put in that situation. Now I _am_ in that situation, and I’m fucking up. I’m no Frank, but, like, we all know I _am_ Monica. And, what if all this is the first steps of really bein’ one of them? Like what if I ruin this kid’s life for good? I’m not even his fucking dad, that’s worse. He’s gonna go through life with faint memories of the stranger who fucked him up.” Debbie started shaking her head, trying to get Ian to stop talking.

 

                “First of all; you’re not Monica-“

 

“Mickey thinks so…” Ian trailed so quietly he didn’t think Debbie heard.

 

“-and you’re definitely not fucking Frank. And, second; no, he won’t. He won’t think that. And you’re still gonna be in his life, Mickey can’t just take him away from you.”

 

                “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He sniffed his nose a bit and looked around the streets. “I’ll talk to him or something. I’ll give him time to calm down and then I’ll sit him down and we’ll work it out it.” That was probably the, and only, thing he could do. Ian may not have wanted talk to Mickey or anything, but this wasn’t about them anymore; it was about Yevgeny. Debbie didn’t seem to be done, though.

 

“And, I mean, this _is_ Mickey, ya know? You really want to drop all of that? You really sure you don’t want that anymore?” Ian was completely taken aback by this. He had been making in abundantly clear that he didn’t want anything to do with Mickey, was this really where she wanted to go with this?

 

                “Seriously, Debs? How can that still be a fucking question?”

 

                “I just mean that you hadn’t really _had_ to think about him or anything while he was gone, but he’s back now. I was thinking about it yesterday. There’s no way you just feel nothing for him anymore, not after everything you’ve been through and now seeing him again.”

 

                “I don’t fucking know. I don’t know. I’m sure part of me still has feelings for him or misses him or something, but who fucking cares. That’s such a small part of me, I don’t even notice it. And I really don’t fuckin’ care about it. I don’t w _ant_ to be with him. That’s all that fuckin’ matters.” They fell back in a silence for a moment while they crossed another street, getting closer to Debbie’s house.

 

                “Just kinda weird, ya know?” she said softly and came to a full stop at a corner, facing Ian head-on. They were pretty close to Debbie’s house, and they both knew this is the point in their walk where they had to go their separate ways to get to their respective homes.

 

                “What is?” Ian lifted his hand and absentmindedly rubbed his bottom lip while he looked on at his sister.

 

                “You two not being together. You’re Mickey and Ian, Ian and Mickey.”

 

                “Yeah, well, not anymore.”

 

 

⁂

 

 

                Yevgeny was awake again by the time he and Iggy entered their house later that day. He was buzzing from his refreshing nap and from getting to see Ian today, so was full of even more energy than he had been all day. He busted through the door, with his uncle not far behind, and ran straight for the living room. “Hey, little man, how was the movies,” his dad asked from where he was sitting on the couch, startling him. He stopped dead in his tracks in front of Mickey, remembering what Ian had told him, he looked past the couch to Iggy, hoping he’d save him from either lying more or blowing their cover.

 

                “We went to the park instead,” Iggy said easily. Mickey nodded, still looking at his son, who was visibly tense, but slowly relaxing.

 

                “Have fun?” Mickey really was trying to have some sort of a relationship with his son. It had only been a day since he told Ian he couldn’t come over anymore, but he still had hope that the more of an effort he made, the quicker Yev would come around. But, now it just felt like it did when he first came back, and he was relentlessly trying to get Ian to talk to him, still to no avail. If he was lucky, his son would be easier to break. Yevgeny simply nodded. His over-abundance of energy was making him actually want to talk to his dad, to talk to anyone, really. Then he remembered Iggy and Ian telling him to play nice with his dad and listen to him. If his dad wanted to hear about the park, maybe he should tell him at least a little bit.

 

                “I got to play on the swings,” he said quietly, still standing in front of the couch awkwardly. Iggy and Mickey just stared at the boy, both shocked that Yev was talking to his father. Mickey smiles slowly, all of a sudden filled with love and joy for his son, who finally spoke to him, and pleasantly.

 

                “Yeah? Maybe I’ll take you sometime,” Mickey shrugged. Yevgeny immediately lit up; he was easily distracted and bribed.

 

                “Really,” he asked excitedly. Mickey chuckled.

 

                “Hell yeah, man. Parks are cool as shit. Wanna watch this movie?” Mickey nodded to the tv where some action movie was playing. Yevgeny looked behind him at the tv and then nodded back to his dad. He walked over to the couch and climbed up to sit on the other side, away from Mickey. Iggy was still watching on from behind the couch, not knowing what was going on. He was expecting Yevgeny’s anger to hang around a little longer. He really wasn’t prepared for him to watch movies with Mickey the day after the blow up. But, it was probably the for the best. Things could get smoothed out easier if the two were going to start getting along. Then, maybe Ian could come back in the picture.

 

                “Want me to stick around? I’m not used to being wake this early for this long, so I was gonna nap, but I can hang out if-“

 

                “Nah, man, we got it,” Mickey waved off Iggy. Yevgeny turned around to look up his uncle.

 

                “Yeah, _man,_ we got it,” he mimicked with a smile on his face. He turned to look at Mickey, who nodded his head approvingly, which only made Yev’s smile grow. Yev hadn’t trusted the man everyone told him was his dad, because he didn’t know hi. Then he was mad at him for taking Ian away. But, in this moment, he felt like he was getting everything he didn’t even know he wanted; a father and approval. The adults in his life loved him, and never missed an opportunity to remind him, but he never had a real dad, not like the kids on tv or at school. This was probably what it was like to have one. And, to have his real dad wanting to hang out with him and take him to the park made Yevgeny feel warm inside. Maybe if everyone got along, they could be a big happy family. It would be so cool if Ian and Mickey were friends, and he could play with them both whenever. Why did they have to hate each other?

 

                “Right…” Iggy trailed. He looked between the two and slowly backed out of the room before walking into his. This was weird. But, he _had_ told Yev that he needed to just play along with his dad to get through this Ian ban. Maybe he was just _really_ playing the part. That’d be nice.

 

                Mickey spent the rest of the movie looking back and forth between the tv screen and his son on his left. In the time that Mickey had gotten out of prison, before yesterday, Mickey and Yev had gotten to a pretty causal relationship. They watched cartoons and movies when they were both in the room and Yevgeny actually answered Mickey when he talked to him. Things weren’t so awkward now and were not as tense. And then yesterday happened. Yevgeny wanted nothing to do with him twenty-four hours ago, but now they were back how they were _forty-eight_ hours ago.

 

                The quick shift reminds him a lot of his days with Ian, around the time he was diagnosed with bipolar. When Ian got going, he got going, and it was hard to say what was coming next. When the switch in Ian’s head flipped from depressive to manic, it was actually scary sometimes. That quick change was what was happening now, just less explicit and not as dangerous. That was just the nature of kids, though. One minute they’re crying, and the next they’re jumping up and down, laughing. It was headache inducing and hard as fuck to deal with. So, while this was weird and would make him dizzy if it continued going back and forth, Mickey knew how to deal with it. Ian taught Mickey many things in their years together; patience being one.

 

                All the stress and heartache with dealing with Ian in that time was, at least at one point, worth it for Mickey, because he just fucking loved Ian with all his being. All of it with Yev would be worth it in the end, if they got be closer to each other, and had a real father-son relationship. It wouldn’t come quick or easy, but Mickey knows he can work at it. Too often, especially where they’re from, were children being put in dangerous and unfair situations because that’s just how things went around here. Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out so bad for Yevgeny, had they been able to move out of this town and go somewhere nicer. Or, maybe that shit just followed you wherever you went.

 

                Even if he hadn’t really ever wanted to be a father, this was his life now. Mickey didn’t get to just decide he didn’t want the responsibility of caring for his child, even if he was conceived out of rape. That didn’t matter. A real man stuck around and took care of his own, regardless of how they had entered the word. At first, Mickey wanted nothing to do with Yevgeny _or_ Svetlana. He couldn’t help that, though. Every time he looked at the women, he was instantly transported back to one of the worst, most traumatizing times of his life. He would feel his skin crawl and like he needed a shower. The last thing he wanted was to have to look at, hold, and care for a child who would only remind him more of that time, and every mistake Mickey had ever made in his life leading up to, and because of that day.

 

                It had taken time to get over his own shit, and he was eventually able to be there for Yevgeny, at least a little bit. They had a good thing going for a while there, but he was just a baby, he’d never remember that. Now it was Mickey’s job to love and care for him, and he was going to do his best. Not only did he want to prove that he was better than his own father, but he wanted to make up for all his mistakes surrounding Yevgeny, and give him a better life where the odds were stacked against him. He was going to be there for his son, and he was going to do everything in his power to keep him alive and happy, at least where he could.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian to English Translations
> 
> Noch' - Night
> 
> Ey, chevlovek - Hey, man

**_ Chapter Six _ **

 

 

 

 

               A week can feel life a lifetime under the right circumstances. Like, when you have a concert or party you’re looking forward to next Friday. Or, you’re seeing an old friend or family member you haven’t heard from in a while. Or, if it was your last week of school before summer break.

 

_Or_ , in a totally unrelatable, irrelevant case where you are a man, freshly out of prison, who is now fathering a child he never initially wanted because your (apparently fake) wife, who raped you when you were a teenager, must go back to Russia, and leaves you in charge, where you ruined things on the first night by not letting said child see his favorite person because _said_ favorite person is your ex who now wants nothing to do with you, so now you don’t want anything to do with him and- again, totally unrelatable, totally weird.

 

               Unless, of course, you were cursed by some deity who decide _you’re_ going to be Mickey Milkovich, in which case, you’re fucked. Because, Mickey _was_ dealing with all that shit, and they were the reason he was so fucking stressed already. One week. It had only been _one week_ since Svetlana had left, which, by now, Mickey had thought she’d be back, and he still wasn’t used to all these routines yet. He had to wake up early every morning to get Yevgeny ready and to school, he spent the day either getting groceries for dinner, trying to clean up the house even a little bit, or just napping and trying to recharge, before he had to go back to pick up Yevgeny, make dinner, and put him to bed. It was tiring, and Mickey missed the days when he could sleep in till ten in the morning.

 

               Things with Yev hadn’t changed much, either, they hadn’t gotten worse, but, they hadn’t gotten much better. Sometimes, Yev felt like talking, and would answer Mickey’s questions and comments or even mimic him, like he was finally learning what it was like to have a dad, and wanted to learn everything he could from Mickey. But, other times, he didn’t even look at the man. Either way, the games have been going on long enough, and Mickey hopes things will turn around any day now. He thinks it’s probably that Yev really is growing closer to him, but also still misses Ian, and he knows it’s Mickey’s fault. With that kernel of an idea, Mickey pulls through and holds on to hope. It could be a long while before Yevgeny completely got over everything and would be okay with his dad, but Mickey knew they’d get there in time.

 

                The more Yevgeny was willing to talk to and interact with him, the more Mickey was warming up to the idea of fatherhood. It felt odd at first, and even now he’s not used to it, but he still found it nice. He actually found himself wishing that Yev could just fully get over his distaste for him, and he could be a real dad to him. It was a weird feeling, wanting to be a dad. In his mind and body, it felt more like he wanted the kid to like him and kind of hang out with him, but figures that’s as close to wanting to be a dad as he’d get. Everyday brought a little more conversation and a little more comfortability between the father and son, and even if the moments were short lived and almost far and few between; it was progress. They’d get there.

 

                In another part of the neighborhood, things weren’t as optimistic. Everyday Ian had to go without seeing Yevgeny or hearing from Iggy, he became more frantic. Iggy would text him in the morning, saying he wouldn’t be able to sneak Yev out. At first, he would text him throughout the day, making sure Ian was okay and asking about his schedule, just to be sure they couldn’t work something out. But, now, he doesn’t get anything past ‘sorry, Mick’s gonna have him all day’ and it was annoying him. The only time he got more texts was if he texted him first, and even then, the responses were short and seemingly uninterested. It was weird and disconcerting, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

 

               He couldn’t talk to Fiona about his grievances because she was still on the argument that this was for the best, even if she didn’t come out and say it like she used to, because she was actually trying. He talked to Debbie, who still thinks he needs to just go over there and talk to Mickey and fix everything. He called Mandy at one point, who had basically said what Debbie _had_ been saying, just not in so many words, and definitely not as nice or gentle. _She_ thought Ian was being stupid and needed to grow up and go talk to Mickey.

 

               That was the same advice she was giving to Mickey, however, when he called her one morning on his way home from dropping Yevgeny off at school.

 

                “I didn’t have a lot of fuckin’ options. I’m not tryna run around and fuckin’ chase some ginger prick who won’t look at me,” Mickey sighed, walking along the street of his house.

 

                “You really still wanna to be with him, though? Wouldn’t it be fuckin’ easier on everyone to just move on and talk through this shit?” Mandy grumbled over the phone. Mickey rolled his eyes as he entered the gate of his front yard and climbed the front steps.

 

                “I know I’m fucking mad at the dick, but I still fuckin’ love him, Mandy. I can’t fuckin’ let him go. The whole time I was locked up I was just waitin’ for him. I didn’t think he’d fuck off and this is what I would’ve come back to. My fuckin’ fault I guess. He told me he’d wait for me, and I fuckin’ believed him. Should’a known better with him.” He fell back onto the couch and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, lounging back into the cushions.

 

                “I mean, he shouldn’t have told you that shit if he wasn’t gonna do it, but you were in prison. He probably thought he wasn’t ever gonna see you again. But, that shit doesn’t matter anymore, ya know what I mean? If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, maybe you shouldn’t want anything from him anymore.” Mandy was having a hard time getting either of the men to listen to her, no matter what she did. It had come to patience and niceness for her; she told them that she understands the rough spot they’re in and is there to help. It was hard playing the confidant for two enemies, but she thinks it’ll help. She knows what they both want and what their worries are, so she can try to nudge the other in that direction, and try to get them on the same page. Ian didn’t want to be with Mickey, and there was no changing his mind, so now she had to change Mickey’s; not that that was much easier.

 

                “But that’s just bullshit. He got to move on, I didn’t. I was stuck in a fuckin’ cell waiting to see him again.”

 

                “I know, I know,” she jumped in to try to calm him down, “it was really fuckin’ shitty, and someone ought’a punch him for it, but that’s Ian. He was mad and just wanted to get away from you so he told you what you wanted to hear.” Mandy cleared her throat awkwardly, not knowing how he’d take her next statement. “Don’t you think you should’ve moved on though? Like, when he did?” Mickey’s reaction was almost immediate.

 

               “What?” He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, so he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to that.

 

               “I just mean that he literally broke up with basically _as_ you were being arrested. Then he didn’t even want to come and see you when you were prison. He didn’t go to any of your hearings or even try to call you. Why did you think everything would be cool after that? He told you he didn’t want to be with you anym-“

 

               “Okay, okay, Jesus Christ.” Mickey sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. “I was in fuckin’ denial. I never thought me and Ian wouldn’t be me and Ian. I just figured it was another fuckin’ fight. He was always startin’ shit, especially then. I thought he’d need some time to get on his fuckin’ meds or somethin’ and he’d be back. I just couldn’t live with idea that he was serious. I just- just-“

 

               “It’s okay, Mick. He was a big part of your life and he fucked you up. That’s what Gallaghers fuckin’ do.” Mandy tried to calm him down again by lightening the mood. Mickey stayed quiet for a minute, to the point of Mandy actually looking at her phone to make sure the call was still connected. Eventually he sighed and closed his eyes.

 

                “Why’d I have to fucking love him,” he whispered. Mandy felt a pulling at her heart. She felt so bad for her brother, and knew exactly what it was like to be so in love with someone who didn’t want you back. There was a time they’d never talk about this shit; no gossiping or boy talk or anything. She hadn’t really minded too much, whether they did or not, but she knows this is helpful to her brother, and could appreciate that they were close enough for such words to be shared between them now. They didn’t keep as many secrets from each other anymore, and were more apt to help each other with shit than they were when they were children.

 

               Mickey didn’t have people to talk to, and Mandy was always there for him when he needed it. He had Iggy, too, now. The difference between her and Iggy is that Mickey _knows_ Iggy is friends with Ian, and it usually seems like he favored Gallagher more than him. But, Mandy was always there, always would be. “Life’s fucked up,” she offered softly.

 

                “Yeah it fuckin’ is.” They stayed quiet again for a few minutes. They were both so caught up in thoughts of their own failed Gallagher loves to make any more conversation. What a fucking joke that was in of itself; two Milkovichs would be hung up on two Gallaghers even years after either had talked to them.

 

                “Hey, I gotta go. I have to leave for work, but call me next week if you’re not busy. And, stop being so fucking dumb and petty. Get over him, talk to him, be friends,” Mandy eventually rushed out.

 

                “I don’t wanna be fri-“

 

                “Yeah, yeah, you wanna fuck and all that gay shit, but too fuckin’ bad, Mick. You gotta get over him, let him see the damn kid, then go out and find some other twink to fuck with. I gotta go, love ya.” She hung up immediately.

 

                “Bitch,” Mickey murmured under his breath, affectionately, but still annoyed. He sighed dramatically and tossed his locked phone beside him on the couch. Why did shit have to be so messy? He went his whole life not giving a shit about feelings or _love_ or anything besides if they were going to eat that week. This wasn’t what he signed up for, but, that’s just how things were with Ian Gallagher. You were always given more than you bargained for. Things will always be thrown in your face unexpectedly, and every time you thought you’ve figured everything out, something else would come out and slap you in the face. After all these years of his life intertwining with and revolving around Ian, Mickey thought he’d be used to it by now. He definitely wasn’t, though.

 

                Ian was just such a fixture in Mickey’s life and mind, he didn’t know how he was just supposed to forget their past and then still see the guy multiple times a week when he was over to see his kid. He gave _so_ much to Ian over the years, he can’t just let that go. It was killing him to have to push him out the way he did, and ignore him and pretend he hated him. He didn’t. Mickey was mad at him, sure, but he just loved and missed Ian and it was causing him, Mickey, to act out like a damn child, just like he used to. Mickey was never good at figuring out how he was supposed to deal with that shit. He used to lash out and get physical with Ian when he didn’t know what he was feeling or how to express them. He’d actually beat the shit out of Ian once when he realized he was in love with him, because he’d never felt that before, and didn’t fucking know what to do.

 

                Mandy was right, though. Ian didn’t want him. Maybe he _should_ move on, try to fuck someone else, maybe that’s what he needed. He was just sexually frustrated. That was it. After three years of fucking his cellmate and other inmates, he just wanted to _get_ fucked again. And, his mind was just latching onto Ian because he was the last, best, and most important person who’s ever fucked him. It wasn’t always just sex with Ian, either, so it always felt like more. Mix that with the idea that he was going to be around when Mickey came home prison, sure, he was just confused. _Yeah_. That was it. He could get some guy to bag him real good, and he wouldn’t even remember Ian’s name, then he can move on and put this whole mess behind him.

 

                That seemed like a difficult feat, though. Mickey could vaguely recall a time where he had gone out looking for men to sleep with after one of the times Ian had ran off. Would that still be the way to go? Or was there an easier way? Maybe, as much as it would kill him to be back there, he could go to Ian’s old club and look around. Though, the men there were either too old or too annoying. It all this work even be worth it in the end? He’d either end up back where he was now, missing Ian, or he’d end up falling for some other prick.

 

                That was the last thing he wanted. The years with Ian took way too much out of Mickey to be able to do it again with someone else. Ian ruined Mickey for anyone else. Hell, Ian ruined Mickey period. If Mickey couldn’t be with the only person he ever loved, he didn’t want to be with anyone. And, he was okay with that. He didn’t need love. He didn’t need someone new to barge into his life. He didn’t need someone to constantly be around and to share his bed. He’d never have alone time again. He had his son, his brother and sister, and even Svetlana if she planned on staying at the house. He could find guys at bars or clubs to fuck and he’d be fine.

 

                Not even in denial’s sense of ‘I’m fine’, where you’re only saying it to get people to stop asking, or in hopes that one day you’d start believing it yourself. But ‘I’m fine’ in the sense that you could get on in life, maybe not in a way you ever thought, but better than you could’ve hoped for years ago. ‘I’m fine’ in the sense that you came to terms with your loses and missed opportunities, and you moved on from them, you accepted that you won’t always win, and that it’s time to go on to the next thing. ‘I’m fine’ in the sense that Mickey Milkovich didn’t need Ian Gallagher to be happy anymore, and he was at peace with it. And, maybe he never did. Maybe even back then Mickey could’ve been happy without Ian.

 

                Mickey hadn’t really been _happy_ before Ian, but he was better off than after Ian. B.I and A.I as he referred to it in his head sometimes. The bland, almost numb, zombie-like state Mickey lived in before Ian (B.I) and the dark, painful, hopeless feeling that crept in and sank heavily on Mickey after (A.I). Had he never gotten involved, Mickey wouldn’t have gone through nearly as much shit. He wouldn’t have risked so much so many times. He would’ve been able to just keep living his life his way. But, even now, even after everything, even if he never got to hold Ian again or touch him or taste, Mickey wouldn’t take any of it back.

 

                He could stew all he wanted about how Ian changed him, for better _and_ worse, but maybe that’s not what happened. Ian just gave Mickey something that no one else ever had; a chance. In the beginning, Ian never left Mickey alone. He was always around and wanting to hang out with him, like a lost dog who latched on to the first person pet him and threw him a bone (literally). But, if he would’ve just stopped, if he hadn’t kept coming back even after Terry beat the shit out of him, and then Mickey did the same, Mickey never would’ve had the chance to grow. Ian showed him what it was like to love. He showed him that there was a softer side to the world, and even himself. He opened Mickey up (in many ways) and show him the person he already could be. Maybe it really wasn’t that Ian changed Mickey, but that he helped him.

 

                Ian took what was once the lifeless ruins of Mickey, bare and inhabitable, and created life. He planted flowers and trees and introduced wildlife and mad Mickey his own ecosystem that, unbeknownst to Mickey, everyone else already had. Ian was Mickey’s best teacher. Even when his bipolar came around and slowly began eating away at not just Ian but Mickey and their relationship, too. He learned what it really meant to care for someone else and about unconditional love. He learned patience and how to value your time with someone. He learned, in the grand scheme of things, to open himself up to people more, but still hold back and be careful, because falling into another trap that resembled Ian Gallagher in anyway would be a dire mistake that he would never recover from.

 

                So, would moving on be worth it? Yes. There was no point for Mickey to flounder around making a fool of himself for Ian. But, would advancing to _another_ person be worth it? Doubtful. There was no harm in sleeping around like the old days, just with men this time, and getting passed the emotional wreckage Ian left in his wake. It wouldn’t just be for Mickey’s sake, either It seemed Ian was doing better without Mickey than he did with him. He got a good job and was taking his meds, and there was just too much of a risk the being with Mickey would throw it all off for him. If Mickey really cared for Ian, which he did, he would be able to cut his feelings off and get over Ian for the sole idea that it was better for Ian that way. He’d eventually be able to allow Ian back into Yevgeny’s life and not have a second thought about it. Then, with the two of the on the same, nonromantic page, Ian could come back into Yev’s life, and make things easier on Mickey. Everyone would be happy if he could just do this.

 

               He’d just need to work through this sooner rather than later so everyone could get on with their lives. While Yev’s short attention span may have helped him get somewhat over the ordeal of not seeing Ian, he still asked where Ian was and if he could come play with him. The kid would get such a pained look on his face whenever Mickey reminded him that he couldn’t come by anymore, it made him want to just give in and ask Ian to come over and put a smile back on Yevgeny’s face. In such a short time, he was developing a real soft spot for the boy.

 

                It could have something to do with the fact that Yevgeny’s love for Ian reminded Mickey so much of his own, that he didn’t know if he wanted to warn the child that staying far away was actually best, or just let him have time with the man and be happy with him. But kids were fickle, and you clearly had to go about things a certain way with them, and Mickey just wasn’t in on the parents’ code yet. In some aspects, like feeding and entertaining, kids weren’t as hard as Mickey had once thought. But, in others, like punishments and feelings and sensitive situations were so much harder than Mickey could have ever imagined. Mickey doesn’t give up on things, but at a certain point, he’ll have done everything he could think of, and he’ll just have to come to terms that he’s not father material.

 

                As much as he hated to admit it, it would be so much easier with Ian around. He knew the routines and what Yevgeny liked. And, it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands around. Even when Svetlana came back. That would be enough of a shit show, Svetlana’s return, he wasn’t looking forward to it. When Svetlana came back, she’d probably be really fucking pissed about what Mickey did. She seemed to have a pretty close relationship with Ian, just like Yev did. Not to mention how many times she’s threatened him if he did something to Ian. And, he did something. _What a mess_. He sighed again and stood up to stretch just as the front door opened.

 

                “Hey, man,” Mickey greeted his brother.

 

                “Hey. Yev at school?” Iggy yawned and came in to the living room, pulling the bottom of his shirt out from where it was tucked into to his black jeans, eager to get out of his work clothes after a long night.

 

                “Yeah just got back. Gonna go to the store later if you want me to pick shit up.” Iggy just shook his head and moved around the couch to back into the hallway.

 

                “Nah, man, just beer. Oh, and can you get more rocky road? We’re out.” Mickey nodded and turned to go to his own room, but Iggy stopped him again. “And, that- that one juice, you know the one, it’s got like- like fruit and-“

 

                “Yeah, okay, fuckface, I’ll see what I can fucking do.” Iggy laughed and walked down the hall into his room to retire for the day and make sure he was well rested for his night off from work, knowing he’d have to help out Mickey with Yev. Mickey walked into his own room, and went straight for the bathroom. He turned on the shower and let the water heat up while he stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself. “He’s just a guy,” he said to his reflection, “he’s just a guy you haven’t even talked to in fuckin’ years. You went this long without him. You don’t need him.” He nodded to himself, really trying to convince himself of the words. “You can fuck another dude,” he tried, but shook his head. “Nah, not yet,” he gave in. Obviously it would be a good minute before he could really come to terms with sleeping with someone who wasn’t Ian. He took a deep breath and began stripping himself of his clothes, but his pounding head stopped him from moving from the sink.

 

                All this stupid drama was giving him more headaches lately, so was Yevgeny’s engery, and it was so annoying. He rubbed his forehead and reached to pull open the medicine cabinet next to the door. He dug around a plethora of prescription pill bottles, before realizing the overabundance of them. He pulled a couple out and examined the labels. _Gallagher, Ian C._ Were these Ian’s bipolar meds? Mickey looked at the names of the pills and surprised himself when, all these years later, he could still remember and recognize the names of Ian’s meds.

 

                So, Ian was keeping his meds in his room, too? What the fuck? He took Mickey’s place in Yevgeny’s life, and was, what, staying in his room and moving in? He really just had to take over his life in any way he could? Mickey rolled the bottles in his hands for a moment in thought. He could just toss these; they didn’t need to be here. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t physically throw apart of Ian away like that, especially not something like his medication. What if he ran out and couldn’t get himself more? Or if he started coming around again, they’d already be here for him.

 

                Mickey scrunched his nose, put the bottles back in the cabinet and grabbed aspirin to ail his headache. It didn’t _really_ hurt to keep a couple pill bottles around, and would help in an emergency. He’d never used to think about shit so thoroughly before, but things were so much more complicated now, and he really had to think things through. Things had consequences, and he couldn’t deal with any more than he’s already had to. When Mickey finally stepped into the shower and stood under the warm water, he let out an honest to God moan. His body had been so tense over the past couple weeks, but it had only gotten worse the more stress he was piling on for himself. And, that’s really what it was; it was Mickey causing all of this stress to himself because he didn’t know how else to deal with things besides with brute force. He knew how to make shit happen fast, not how to wait around for shit to fix itself. Because shit _didn’t_ just fix itself. You have to jump in and do something or else you’re just going to be stuck in the disaster.

 

                He tilted his head to one side as he squirted a generous amount of shampoo into his hand and began rubbing it into his short hair. But what _did_ he do about this? He still didn’t know. He just wanted to be with Ian so fucking bad, and all anyone was telling him was that he shouldn’t. Would he be able to force himself to move on just with the sole idea that it would be beneficial to Ian? He’d have to. This was for Ian, for himself, and even for his son, who he cared too much for now. Maybe he actually would have to just force himself to go fuck someone sooner, no matter how much it would kill him inside. He was running out of time to be slow with the process, and just needed to get it over with. Mickey let his head fall back into the stream and washed out the suds from his hair.

 

                Ian seems to have moved on, how did he do it? Did he date other people or sleep around? Ian was good at that. Was it just easy to walk away from Mickey because he hadn’t loved Mickey as much as Mickey loved Ian? That hurt more than thinking he was sleeping around with half the town. He started cleaning his body with a bar of soap while anger just built in him. Ian just went ahead and moved on without ever giving Mickey any time to do so himself, not even a chance. Ironic, now, wasn’t it? The one person who ever gave him a chance would chose not to when he needed it the most. Ian never even told Mickey he didn’t actually want to be with him. _No_. _Instead_ , he told Mickey that he’d wait for him until he got out of prison, but clearly didn’t. It didn’t matter if Ian really had broken up with him before Mickey got arrested, because he _still_ came back and told him he’d wait for him. Ian could’ve fucking told him, could’ve fucking wrote him or called if he didn’t want to actually go visit Mickey. He didn’t have to just leave him sitting in his cell with that false hope that _one day_ he’d get to be with him again.

 

                Instead, he continued living life, and took Mickey’s place without anyone fucking asking him to. Couldn’t he just keep going on ignoring Ian and not letting him in his house? Yevgeny seemed to not really care as much as he first did, so maybe he really would just get over it. Mickey didn’t give up or go back on his word, so why would he just let Ian back? And, if everyone really did want him to move on, now that he was all worked up and thinking about it, was bringing Ian back into his life, even for the sake of a child, _really_ the way to do it? He sighed deeply and turned to face the hot water and let it rinse his body. No, no way was he about to just let everything go. It didn’t matter how much he told himself he could or that he should; he _wouldn’t_. He didn’t _want_ to. Who cared who it benefited? Mickey didn’t want to let Ian worm his way back in his life anymore. Ian had fucked him over too many times. He ran a bulldozer over the once beautiful terrain he built for Mickey, and left him somehow emptier than he was B.I. No one could hold a grudge like Mickey, and if there was anyone he wanted to hold a grudge against, it was Ian.

 

                “Fuck him,” he said into the stream of water before turning the faucet off. He shook his body, partially of the water droplets and also to rid himself of any lingering thoughts of Ian. He wasn’t going to be buddies with him, and he wasn’t going to let him back in his house. Svetlana could do whatever the fuck she wanted when she came back, but it was still _his_ house, so what he says goes. Mickey didn’t want Ina in his house or life or around his son. If that was a problem with someone, they could leave. He was done. He needed to focus on himself and Yevgeny, and Ian would do nothing but lure them away from safety and leave them stranded in a ditch to die. Things needed to change around here, and he was going to be sure of it. No more worrying himself about what the fuck is happening with Ian. Ian was out of his life, as far as he was now concerned. And, that was that.

 

 

⁂

 

 

                Ian was dragging slower today than usual. Without the added need to wake up to get Yevgeny to school in the mornings, he was finding it harder and harder to get out of bed. Every day he was closer to being late for work, and today, he definitely would be. Today was a rough one, because the second alarm that went off on his phone that morning was his reminder that today he had to pay Yevgeny’s school tuition. With so much going on lately, it had completely slipped his mind that it was time to drop off the monthly check. He had had a bit of an internal conflict after he’d hit snooze again; he could go down to the school and pay it, or just leave it and assume Mickey had taken care of it. Svetlana most have told him about the fee, so he probably had already gotten the money together somehow, and was planning on paying it. There’d be no need for Ian to shove his nose where it clearly wasn’t welcomed anymore. Mickey wanted to take on fatherhood? _Fine_. He could do it himself. All of it. This whole thing really was making Ian pretty bitter.

 

               By the time he pulled himself out of his blanket cocoon, got himself dressed, and took his meds with almost a whole pot of coffee, Ian was already ten minutes late. Everyone at work seemed to have taken notice, which didn’t help. He hadn’t been late or weird around work since before he adjusted to his meds, and all his coworkers and higher-ups knew it. He’d only ever been unpunctual or acted out while he was slipping into mania or was deciding not to take his medication. He tried to just duck in with his head down, hoping no one would notice or badger him. “Where ya been, Gallagher?” Ian winced and slowly turned around from where he had only made it half way to his locker.

 

               “Sorry, Sharon,” he rubbed the back of his neck at one of the newer superiors, the one he usually worked and drove with, when he noticed her concerned face. “I’m okay, I swear,” he reassured with his hands up, “nothing crazy, just had a late start.” He started backing up to get to his locker and also out of the conversation.

 

               “You sure? If you need to go home-“ Ian shook his head. The last thing he needed to do right now is sit at home by himself and get caught up in his head about all the shit going on right now. He needed the distraction.

 

               “No, no, I swear, I’m okay, just overslept. I’ll be fine.” He offered her the most genuine smile he could muster in the moment and turned to open his locker and get changed into his uniform. He silently prayed for Sharon to just drop the subject, and thank God, she did. He sighed and dropped his head, leaning into his locker to hide his face. In all honesty, he didn’t want to be at work today, he hadn’t really wanted to all week, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. He needed money and he needed the interference. If he was sitting at home right now, who knows what he’d do.

 

               Bipolar or not, Ian was an impulsive man, and that was not good when he was in these high stress situations. If he wasn’t at work, he may run off and go find Mickey and confront him, and that wouldn’t be good. Maybe he’d end up doing the one thing that he was always so scared of, go off the rails completely, and end up stealing Yevgeny again and running off with him. That just couldn’t happen. He couldn’t do that to Yevgeny, and he’s sure Svetlana would _actually_ kill him; Mickey probably wouldn’t stop her this time.

 

               He still had no clue when Svetlana would be coming back, so he also had no clue how long this ban on him would last. He didn’t know when, how, or if he’d get to see Yevgeny again, but all he can do now is hope for the best when Svetlana does finally come back. He sighs and pulls his t-shirt over his head, standing in just his white a-shirt and work pants and digs around for his work shirt in his locker. When he finally pulls it out and slips it on, his phone starts buzzing from where he set it in his under his clothes inside the locker. _Who’d be calling now?_ He sighs even heavier when he checks the caller id, but answering it anyway. “Hey, you at work,” Fiona asked over the phone. Ian closed his work locker and shouldered his phone while he began buttoning his shirt.

 

                “Yeah, about to head out, what’s up?”

 

                “So, Liam’s teacher wants to have some meeting tomorrow morning before school, some shit about next year, I don’t know, but I gotta go into work early for my own meetin’. Do you think you could go with him to school in the morning and talk to her before work?” She sounded almost like she was pleading with him to just _please do this one thing, please._ Slowly but surely, Ian and Fiona seemed to have been working through their differences over the week. Neither had apologized for the things they’d said in the past, but they tried to just move on. Fiona hadn’t said anything else about Mickey or Yevgeny, and Ian tried not to be so cold to her, and was helping her out more than usual. With his free time not being spent helping Svet or Yev, he could do more around his own house, like his sister had been asking for.

 

                He started feeling bad for not doing his part anymore, and tried to do what he could. He was still feeling bitter about her and her opinions about his life, but she was family and he was still living with her, so they were just going to have to get over it. “Yeah, sure, I can do that, no problem,” he said lightly, “I’ll make sure he’s up early and eats, too. If you need me to.” Ian almost rolled his eyes at himself, he knew Liam was more than capable of getting himself up and ready, even earlier than usual, but he just felt like he had to suck up top to Fiona now, and all it did was make him madder.

 

                “That would be awesome, I gotta leave like, _as_ he’s waking up. Thanks, Ian.” He could almost hear the smile that was certainly on her face right now.

 

                “Sure thing, I gotta go, though. See ya tonight.” He grabbed his bag and moved to an empty bench where he’d wait to see what was going on today.

 

                “Yeah, yeah, sure. Thanks again, see ya.” Ian hangs up and pockets his phone. He slouches into the bench and closes his eyes, truly wishing he could be anywhere else right now. His head was starting to pound with a faint headache rolling in. He was tired and slightly annoyed, and lying in bed for the rest of the day sounded really fucking good. Fuck Mickey for making his life so difficult and making him miserable. Ian would have to get over all this shit sooner or later, but neither sounded very pleasant. He just wanted to see Yevgeny and _not_ see Mickey. At the very least, he wished Iggy would text him back with a little more information. Why wasn’t he able to sneak Yev out? No way Mickey was taking him to school _every day,_ and even if he was, he wouldn’t want to hang out with him all the time. He’d want a break, and would drop him on Iggy like he had told him he did the first night.

 

                Maybe that’s why Iggy hadn’t kept him too updated; Mickey couldn’t handle Yevgeny, so he pushed him onto Iggy who had to watch him now when he wasn’t working or sleeping and was just busy with that. But, then wouldn’t he be able to get Yev out to see him? What the fuck was going on over there?

 

 

⁂

 

 

                It didn’t matter how many times Mickey went to Yevgeny’s daycare, he didn’t think he’ll ever get used to the over-the-top security and all around bougie-ness of the whole place. The fact he had to ring a damn _doorbell_ every time he wanted to drop off or pick up his son just got him more annoyed each time. The looks he still got from the teachers and other parents whenever he came in the building pissed him off even more. They gave his tattoos dirty glares and would sneer if he let a cuss word slip through. They just made him feel like he wasn’t good enough to be there, even though he knows he’s lived in this damn town longer than any of their pretentious asses. But, then, maybe it was that he wasn’t good enough to be there because he wasn’t good enough to be a father. They knew it, Yev knew, even Ian knew it. As much as he tried to pretend like he knew he was better than the examples he had been given of fatherhood, Mickey knew his rotten apple hadn’t fallen far from the old, withering Milkovich tree.

 

                He shuffled his feet while he waited for someone inside to buzz him in. When he could finally enter the too-bright building, he walked down the main hall, passing by multiple classrooms with different age groups. “Hi, Mr. Milkovich,” Yevgeny’s teacher greeted when he pulled open a class door. He held back his eyeroll and went straight for the sign out sheet to sign his name for his sons pick up.

 

                “Hey,” he muttered, bypassing the woman whose name he still hadn’t bothered to learn, and went for Yev’s cubby to grab his backpack. “He outside?” he asked, noting there was literally no one else in the room besides the two adults. The teacher smiled brightly and nodded. She was always nice enough, but a little too nice for Mickey’s liking; it always felt like she was flirting with him or something.

 

                “Yes, the kids are all outside with John right now. We can go grab him.” John, one of the younger guys who helped the teachers, was the only name he could ever remember here. Maybe it was because it was such a simple name, or maybe because Mickey didn’t mind _as_ much when _his_ eyes lingered on him. The teacher brushed past Mickey, grazing their arms together, and went to stand by the door leading to a playground outside the back of the school. Mickey huffed, because did he really need an escort to walk outside and grab his kid? He nodded anyway and walked towards her. “Any plans this weekend?” _Here we go._

 

                “Uh, I don’t know. Just hangin’ out with the kid, I guess,” Mickey coughed and tried to put some distance between him and the teacher. She nodded and tilted her head, while he began vigorously looking for Yevgeny so they could get out the hell of here.

 

                “Well, if you can get a sitter and are free-“

 

                “Yev!” he cut her off with a shout, causing her to jump slightly. From behind the slide on the fake grass, a head of messy, darkening, sand-colored hair popped up and ran around the slide. “Hey, little man,” Mickey said, ruffling his son’s hair when he ran up to his dad. “Ready to go?”

 

                “Yeah! Can we get ice cream tonight?”

 

                “We’ll see, man,” Mickey laughed. He turned to the teacher and nodded, moving to head onside so they could leave, but she stopped him.

 

                “Oh, uh, sorry, Mr. Milkovich. We need this month’s check.” Mickey turned around and lowered his brows in confusion.

 

                “Check?”

 

                “Yes, there’s a monthly tuition to keep the kids in our program. It usually gets dropped off with Yevgeny in the mornings, I just figured you didn’t know about-“

 

                “It gets dropped off with him?” She nodded. Well as far as he knew, there was only one person who was dropping Yevgeny off before he was. “Ian was paying?”

 

                “I-I don’t know, he just brought the checks.” Mickey nodded slowly and looked down at his son who was holding on to his dad’s pant leg in his small fist, watching other kids play.

 

                “Yeah, okay, I’ll get it tomorrow. How much?”

 

                “One thousand.” Mickey had to stop his jaw from dropping.

 

                “Dollars?” he shouted, “one fucking thousand dollars? For school? For kids can’t even wipe their own ass?” The woman straightened her posture and there were a few gasps from a few kids who could hear.

 

                “Excuse me, maybe you’d like to go inside and we can-“ Mickey raised his eyebrows and pulled his head back to really look at the teacher.

 

                “You think he came outta billionaire’s pussy? For that kind of money, he should be able to draw fuckin' Mozart,” Mickey huffed and shook his head. “Where the fuck do you get off charging that kind of money to people in Southside?” Everyone who was outside was now staring at Mickey, and looked offended with their dropped jaws, but his son who was completely unfazed by the cursing. Mickey nudged Yevgeny with his arm to get him inside. “Come on, dude, let’s go.” The two Milkovichs walked back into the building, and straight through to the front door until they were out on the street. Mickey reached down to put Yevgeny’s backpack on him and held his hand out for him to hold. It took three days for him to get used to the fact that, as a child, Yev needed his hand held when they were out walking, but now he made sure to remember it.

 

                “How was school, kid?” he asked once they started walking home. He didn’t know if he’d get anything out of him tonight, but he seemed like he was more willing to interact with Mickey today.

 

                “It was fun. We got to do family trees and we had oranges for snack!” Yev was practically jumping beside him and Mickey really couldn’t help but smile. He still got frustrated with the kid sometimes, especially when he _did_ bring up Ian, but even in the short week they had grown a bit closer; they had to. Mickey’s just grateful that kids forget and get used to things quicker than adults.

 

                “Yeah? Sounds like a crazy day,” Mickey laughed lightly. They walked in silence down two blocks until Yev pulled on Mickey’s hand, causing him to look down. “What’s up?” Yev scrunched his nose for a minute, like he was thinking of how to ask the question in his head or explain _why_ the question was there in the first place.

 

                “Do you love mommy?” Mickey’s eyebrows shot up so high, so fast, he thought he lost them. He stopped walking for a second to look down at his son and compose himself.

 

“Your mom?” Yev nodded. Did he love the Russian whore who he married because of a rape baby? What the fuck was he supposed to say? He didn’t really want to lie to him, and fill him with false hope that maybe one day his mommy and daddy would be like other family’s moms and dads, but he also knew better than to just lay it on thick with the truth; he was just a kid, he didn’t need to know about all those messy details. But, maybe he should at least know he was gay. _Right_? Because, what if one day he really did move on, and ended up bringing a guy home? He’d have to explain to his son sooner or later that he likes penis; might as well get it over with now. Plus, it would make things less confusing for Yev; if he knew his dad didn’t like women, he wouldn’t think his parents would ever get ‘back’ together.

 

                “Well, uh,” Mickey started, only slightly unsure of where to take this, and began walking again. “Uhm, okay, well, we lo-love you, you know? A-and we used to have our differences but then we fucking had you, so we got over that shit. B-but I don’t, uh, love your mom like that. I don’t really love girls like that at all, ya know what I mean?” This was nerve wrecking. Mickey has only ever told one person he loved them, and while he did love his son, he’s never said it; it was a weird sensation. He bit his lip and looked down at Yev who was shaking his head with a confused look on his face.

 

                “Nuh uh.” _Cool_.

 

                “Okay, well,” he coughed into his right arm and kept his eyesight straight ahead. “So, s-some guys like girls, and some guys l-like guys. I-it’s called being gay. And, well, I like guys, I don’t like girls…” he winced at how lame he sounded and glanced down at his son who was nodding slightly.

 

                “I think I’m gay, too,” Yev said so nonchalantly. Mickey actually laughed.

 

                “What? Why do you think that?”

 

                “Well, my friend Jacob is a guy and I like him,” Yevgeny said innocently. Wow, kids were kinda clueless sometimes, huh? This was hard to word to such a such young kid; how did real parents do this?

 

                “That’s fuckin’ different, man,” he said lightly, offering a tight smile to Yevgeny, who was now looking up at him. “So, you know when a girl and a boy are married? Because they love each other and want to have kids?” Yev nodded. “Well, some boys want to marry boys and some girls want to marry girls. So, it’s different than just likin’ your friends,” he said so lamely. Is this really how to explain shit to kids? He glanced back at Yev. “You get it now?”

 

                “Yeah, I get it. I wanna marry girls.” Mickey laughs again.

 

                “Yeah? Got a little girlfriend at school?” Yevgeny shook his head vigorously.

 

                “No! A-and she’s not from school,” he ends quietly. Mickey’s glad the conversation seems to have shifted from his dating life to his son’s, and was even happier that his son was talking to him. This is what real father/son relationships looked like. Now if they could just keep this up…

 

                “Uh huh, who is she?” Mickey could see the blush so heavily on Yev’s pale cheeks.

 

                “Franny. She’s my friend, we play at the park!”

 

                “Oh, okay, so you’re meeting chicks at the park, huh? Very smooth, tiger,” Mickey joked. Yevgeny just shook his head again.

 

                “Nooo,” the boy dragged, “I know her ‘cause aunt Debbie!” Debbie? Did Mickey have a sister he didn’t know about? Debbie? Maybe Svetlana did. Debbie…Debbie…Deb- _oh_. _Debbie_.

 

                “Ian’s sister Debbie?” Yev just nodded. Ian really had brought _his_ kid around his family enough for Yev to actually develop a crush on one of them? And was having him call Ian’s sister ‘aunt’. Yevgeny wasn’t calling Ian ‘uncle’ was he? Even Ian hadn’t to know how weird that would be. He hated this. “Just watch yourself. Gallaghers are fucking dangerous.”

 

                “That’s what momma said,” Yevgeny said simply. Mickey laughed genuinely as they stepped through the front gate of their yard. They walked into the house and Yev slouches off his backpack to hand to his dad. “Can we go to the park with Franny this weekend?” The pleading look on his face almost makes Mickey cave. When did he get so soft, and for a kid? He really wanted to say no, he didn’t want his son involved with that family in any capacity as much as he could help it. But, he didn’t want Yev to start hating him again; Mickey already took Ian away, how would the kid feel if he took his girlfriend, too?

 

                “I’ll-I’ll see what I can do, bud.” Mickey hung the small backpack on a hook by the front door and walked to sit on the couch where Yev was already sitting. The two sat together and watched cartoons that Yevgeny laughed at while Mickey just stared blankly at, not understanding what the hell what going on with the weird, brightly-colored characters. It was weird doing this, hanging out with a little kid who was also your son. Mickey hadn’t had many friends in his life, Ian being one of the few, and his once unwanted son wasn’t someone he thought he’d actually consider a friend.

 

                While they may not really be all that buddy-buddy or best friends or anything, it was still nice that after the first couple days and weeks of either complete silence or extreme yelling, they could calmly chat about their days and watch tv together. Things had been turning out surprisingly well for them and their relationship, and it was starting to feel like what real father/son relationships were like. It would still take some getting used to, but he thinks he can do it. It was easy for him to start going through the motions with a kid in his life; he’s always adapted well. So, when an hour later, he suddenly found himself in the kitchen, putting dinner of grilled cheese on the table, he wasn’t even surprised, just rolled with it.

 

                “Go wake Iggy up, tell him we’re not waitin’ on him,” he said to Yev while he pulled ketchup and beer out of the fridge. Yev nodded and ran down the hallway. Mickey went to sit at the table, and didn’t bother waiting to start eating for his brother or son, who finally waddled into to the room and sat down on either side of the table, Mickey in between them both at the end.

 

                “Where’s the soup?” Iggy mumbled through a mouth of his greasy sandwich.

 

                “What soup,” Mickey asked.

 

                “The soup. Tomato soup. You can’t have grilled cheese without tomato soup.” Mickey stared at his brother like he was an idiot; because he was.

 

                “Man, shut the fuck up and eat your damn food,” Mickey rolled his eyes and continued eating, looking at his son, who was giggling into his food. What was he going to do about his school fees? He didn’t have a job yet, and would have to at least wait till Svetlana came back to start looking, but the kid really seemed to love his school. Plus, there’s no way Mickey would survive without the break that the daycare gave him. He didn’t really want to take that from him, and he _really_ didn’t know what he was supposed to do if he had Yev all day every day; they probably wouldn’t get along as much if they had to spend _that_ much time together. Iggy had a job; maybe he could help. But, he couldn’t help needing to know more about what he’d been missing. “So, Gallagher pays for the kid’s school or what?”

 

                “Uh, yeah, I think so. I mean, he always drops the money off and shit, and I’m pretty sure it’s his…” Iggy trailed off, not knowing where this came from or where it was going. Mickey nodded while thoughtfully chewing his food.

 

                “Okay, well, you got a grand?” Iggy snapped his head up with narrow eyes.

 

                “What?”

 

                “I need it for his fuckin’ school,” Mickey nodded to Yevgeny who was eating his food while watching the two adults talk, “I don’t have any fuckin’ money.” Iggy nodded, wishing he could help his family out more, but happy to see his brother caring this much about his son and his schooling.

 

                “Am I not going back to school?” Yevgeny spoke up, the barely-there panic swimming just under his tone and behind his eyes. Both men turned to look at the boy and felt a similar heart wrenching pain grip their chests. Having to be hard out in the Southside of Chicago can rip the fact that innocence still exists from you. Just because you were forced out of childhood and made to learn what the ‘real’ world was like, doesn’t mean every kid was.

 

                Most kids still lived in a happy fantasy world where they just played with their toys and ate candy. Most kid’s stomachs hurt from laughing too much, or eating too many sweets; not from the punches and kicks they were being pelted with by someone bigger than them. Most kids, anyway; not so much where they grew up. Yevgeny was probably in the minority of children in their neighborhood, because he actually had life pretty good. Sure, the ‘family’ had their problems, Lord knows it wasn’t easy getting where they were now, but Yev was still lucky. He was fed every day, bathed, got to sleep in a real bed, and no one was ever beating on him. He was just full of love and surrounded by people with even more love for him. If he thought on it too long, Mickey found himself envying his son.

 

                “Nah, man. We’ll figure it out, kay? We’ll get ya back in,” Mickey said softly, rustling Yev’s hair. Iggy nodded again, looking between the two.

 

                “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do,” Iggy said, offering a tight-lipped smile to his brother. “You gotta get a fuckin’ job, man,” he laughed, returning to what was left of his food, hoping to ease the slight tension in the room.

 

                “Fuck, I know. You hirin’ at the club?” Iggy just shook his head.

 

                “Nah, but my buddy s’got a garage down the street. He’s only there on the weekends ‘cause of work, but they’re pretty shorthanded. He’s always trying to get me down there, I can ask if he’s got a spot for ya,” Iggy said through his last bite. He stood up from the table and went to put his plate in the sink.

 

                “Yeah? Thanks, man,” Mickey smiled genuinely and looked back to Yev while Iggy went into the living room and changed the channel to something more of his liking. “The sandwich good?” Yevgeny nodded to Mickey with a small smile, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

                “Yeah, but the ice cream woulda been good, too.” Mickey couldn’t help but laugh as he finished off his beer and stood up, clearing the table.

 

                “Yeah, well maybe next time. We got some here though for tonight if you want.” He walked into the kitchen, dropping the plates off in the sink, and heading for the freezer before Yev even answered.

 

“Ice cream! Ice cream!” Yevgeny jumped down from the table and trotted around the kitchen while Mickey grabbed two spoons.

 

               The two sat on the couch with Iggy for most of the night, eating ice cream out of the container and watching whatever movies were playing. Iggy was impressed at how well the two had gotten along all night, and so was Mickey. If you were looking in on the house tonight, and the small family, you would have never known the problems they all had suffered. You wouldn’t have seen the cracks and fissures in the foundation that was holding them up. It would look so natural, so loving. Even for Iggy and Mickey, it was hard to believe they were where they were now. It was such a beautiful bliss that was found and draped over the three Milkovivhs, and all they could hope for was that it would last just a little longer.

 

               When most of the ice cream had been eaten, two movies watched, and Yevgeny became quiet and heavy from where he was in the middle of the couch, leaning on Mickey’s right arm, Mickey stretched and stood up, knowing what time it was. “It’s late, dude, gotta get you ready for bed.” Yevgeny immediately perked up as if he wasn’t tired at all. Mickey grabbed the ice cream and turned around, walking into the kitchen, trying to avoid the pout he knew was developing on the young, pale face.

 

                “But can’t I-“

 

                “Nope,” Mickey cut him off.

 

                “But, you don’t even know what I was gonna say!” Mickey came back into the room and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

                “What were you gonna say?”

 

                “Can’t I stay up longer and watch tv with you and uncle Iggy?” Iggy audibly laughs from the couch.

 

                “Nope. Come on, let’s go,” Mickey said, nodding down the hall. Yevgeny frowned but still hopped down from the couch and reluctantly followed his dad.

 

                “Noch’, Iggy,” Yev called, causing Mickey to glare at the child. He was always pulling Russian out, like he couldn’t just speak English all the time, it was annoying. Mickey could pick up on certain things, like Yev had probably just said goodnight to his uncle, but other times he was completely clueless. Maybe he’d have to have a talk with him about the fact that they’re in America so should be speaking strictly English.

 

                “You too, bud,” Iggy called, eyes never leaving the flashing tv screen. Yevgeny skipped behind Mickey while the two walked down to the child’s room.

 

                “Pick up your toys, man, you can’t fuckin’ sleep with them all over your bed,” Mickey huffed and walked over to the small dresser between the two beds, and began rummaging through the drawers for pajamas for Yev. When he finally pulled an outfit out, he sat on Svetlana’s bed and waited for Yevgeny to finish putting his toys away.

 

                “Okay!” Yev jumped in front of Mickey and lifted his arms above his head. Mickey pulled Yevgeny’s shirt off over his head, and replaced it with a Mickey Mouse t-shirt, and held the matching pants in his hand, standing up.

 

                “Come on, let’s go piss and brush your teeth,” he said, and followed Yevgeny out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. He left the pants on the sink for Yev to put on when he was done using the toilet, and started setting up his tooth brush for him while he waited. He helped his son brush his teeth, and walked him back to his own room, both yawning now. Mickey tossed the blanket over Yevgeny’s small body when he climbed into the bed. “I’m guessin’ you want a story?” Yev nodded sluggishly. He really had adapted quickly enough to Yevgeny’s needs and routines. He didn’t have much of a choice. Svet was gone, no way was he bringing Ian back, and Iggy had his own life. Mickey _was_ his dad. He may not be the best, he may not have wanted anything to do with him at first, and he may have been gone for a long time, but he was his dad, and he was here now. Mickey was _not_ going to be to Yev what Terry was to him. So, he adjusted and learned how to live around his son’s wellbeing in a short time.

 

                “The bunny one,” Yev yawned again. Mickey lowed himself onto Svetlana’s bed again, and looked at the tired boy through the darkness.

 

                “I still don’t know that one, you gotta tell it me.” Mickey laughed at the annoyed huff that pulled from the child.

 

                “Okay, but you have to do it next time,” he said and scooched around the bed to get more comfortable.

 

                “Yeah, sure, I’ll listen real good this time.” Mickey sat back and listened to Yevgeny speak softly.

 

                “Once upon a time, there was a lion who lived, uhm, in a house,” Yev tried, scratching his face as he thought. Mickey had noticed that whatever story this was, Yevgeny had trouble remembering all the details, so every time he told it, some things were a little different; it was like a whole new story each time.

 

                “He pay rent in the house?” Yevgeny sighed again.

 

                “No, it’s _his_ house.” _Okay_ , clearly the concepting of renting and owning went over his head. “Anyway, his family, they, uhm, lived in a different house and never came to see him.”

 

                “Fuckin’ assholes.” Yevgeny nodded, knowing better than to repeat the fowl langue, but not being bothered by it.

 

                “Yeah, they were mean. And the lion was sad because he wanted friends. And one day when he was walking, he found a bunny, who-who was- who didn’t have a house?”

 

                “Hey, don’t ask me. S’your fuckin’ story,” Mickey laughed.

 

                “Okay, yeah, the bunny didn’t have a house. And-and he was sad, ‘cause he wanted a house. So, the-the-“

 

                “The lion?”

 

                “Yeah, the lion, he brought the bunny home and they were best friends and-and the end. I think.” Yevgeny rubbed his eyes and Mickey stood up from the bed.

 

                “Yeah, sounds right to me.”

 

                “But, you don’t even know the story,” Yev argued, his eyes already closed.

 

                “Shut the fuck up and got to sleep, man,” Mickey said lightly. He bent over the smaller bed and let his hand hover just over Yevgeny’s smooth face. He pulled his hand back and just went for it; bending even further and lightly kissing the top of his sleeping head gently. It felt right, felt like the thing to do. He can’t remember a time Terry ever kissed him. Kids need love, and while he may not be the best at showing it, Mickey would try his best to give his own son the love he deserves.

 

                He quietly stepped out of the bedroom and walked down the hallway, going straight into his room. He’d usually hang out with Iggy for a little while before he’d pass out, but he’s was just out of it today. He still didn’t know what he was going to do with Yevgeny tomorrow, he knew he wouldn’t have the money by then, so he’d probably have to keep him home. The thought of entertaining an almost five-year-old all day is enough to make him collapse on his bed and almost instantly fall asleep.

 

                It wouldn’t be too bad, right? He’s made it this far without anything bad happening. It had really only been the Ian thing. Sure, sometimes it still felt like Yevgeny didn’t trust Mickey, but that’s because this was all just as new for him as it was for Mickey. Once the kid was old enough to start remembering things, Svetlana had stopped coming by the prison, not wanting their son to see his father behind the glass. Svetlana wanted to protect her baby. He understood, sure, but kids had to learn the hard truths sooner or later. But how much was _too_ much, and too soon? He’d already gone and told Yev that he was gay; what else would he let slip? Tell him about him and Ian? That he was a rape baby that Mickey wanted nothing to do with at first?

 

                He’d really have to watch himself. Mickey had been doing well, besides those slip ups. He was keeping Yevgeny fed and washed. If you asked him, he’d say he’s doing a pretty damn good job, especially for someone who got fatherhood dropped on him so fast. Things were going well. Being a parent wasn’t that _hard_.

 

 

⁂

 

 

                The sun had never felt so warm but still unthreatening. He definitely wasn’t wearing sunscreen, but he knows, somehow, he won’t burn. He digs his toes further into the hot sand, and feels water dripping down his arm from the condensation on his beer bottle. The waves are present in his ears, but not overwhelming. He didn’t have a care or worry in the world, and he feels weightless, like he’s flying through the cloudless sky above him, relishing in the breeze.

 

                In the furthest part of his brain, he feels a faint nagging or clawing; something was bugging him, or should be, or-or something. But, he didn’t know what it was or even what it could be, everything just felt so warm and nice, why would he worry himself with that unknown spot in his mind? He closed his eyes and stretched in the beach chair, sighing contently. The waves sounded like they were picking up, the crescendo of the rushing water increasing and intensifying by the second; it was almost too quick to notice. One minute, it’s just the ocean, but the next, a high pitched, ear splitting screaming is tearing through the serene view of tans and blues in front of him.

 

                Mickey’s eyes shoot open when his brain finally catches up with his ears. He looks around his dark room, trying to find the source of the shouting and yelling. He pulls his phone off his headboard and squints at the bright screen, seeing it was only a few minutes past midnight. “What the fuck,” he grumbled into his pillow and rolled over to pull himself out of bed. What the hell was that screaming? He emerged from his room in an old a-shirt and boxers, following the noise down the hallway. “What the fuck is that?” he asked when he almost ran into Iggy who had just come down the hall from the living room.

 

                “S’Yev,” Iggy sighed. He seemed tired, but not like he was woken up from sleep. On his nights off, Iggy usually passed out and napped on the couch at night, never really feeling like he slept enough. Tonight, he had just closed his eyes, probably was only out for two minutes when the screaming started.

 

                “Kid s’got fuckin’ lungs,” Mickey murmured as he pushed through the door at the end of the hall. When the door opened, the screaming was even louder. Mickey flipped the switch on the wall, turning on two laps in the room. Yevgeny was sitting up in bed, pushed back into the corner against the wall, blanket and pillow and the ground. He was shaking and crying, and Mickey immediately stopped in his tracks. The shock of him not knowing what to do hadn’t hit yet, but the shock of the familiarity of the scene laid out in front of him was swarming. He’s seen this before, he’s been here before.

 

                Mickey’s always had trouble fully believing that Yevgeny was actually his kid; he looked nothing like him. Sure, over the years, it seems, Yev’s hair had gotten darker, making it almost more of a brown than blonde, and he was really starting to come into the trademarked, Milkovich facial expressions, but that wasn’t enough to ease his mind. But, standing in the doorway of Yevgeny’s bedroom, seeing him shaking and screaming, crowding in the corner like he was hiding from something, he’s never looked more like Mickey. The small, quivering form in front of him was the epitome of Mickey’s childhood. He spent more nights exactly like this than anything else. He felt a cold, stomach-clenching shiver run over his body.

 

                “H-hey, bud,” Mickey tried, coming closer to the bed. He didn’t know what to do. He’s never dealt with something like this, and when he was on Yevgeny’s end, no one had been there to help him, so he didn’t have any experience to base it on. Yev’s screaming, shaking, and crying did not show any sign of slowly or stopping, and Mickey had no clue what to do. “What’s wrong, Yev, what happened?” Nothing but more screams. The closer Mickey got to Yevgeny, the more the young boy trembled, and he shook his head.

 

                “No!” Yevgeny screeched when Mickey tried to touch him. Mickey jumped back from the bed and ran his hands through his hair.

 

                “Okay! Okay. Wh-what do you want?” he tried, thinking maybe he could just get him something to help.

 

                “Morkov'! I want morkov'!” Mickey nodded with furrowed brows.

 

                “O-okay, uh, what-what the fuck is that, kid?” Mickey turned to Iggy, who was behind, and back to Yev.

 

                “It’s-it’s Ian-“ Iggy started, but was cut off by Yevgeny’s shouts again.

 

                “I-Ian! I wa-want Ian! I-I want morkov'!” Yev stuttered, barely being heard though the heavy sobs. Mickey sighed heavily and turned back to Iggy.

 

                “You know how to fix this shit?” he asked, exasperated. Iggy scratched the back of his neck and shook his head.

 

                “Uh, no. I-Ian’s the only one that can calm him down when he has a nightmare…” Mickey looked back at Yevgeny, whose screams had quieted down, and now he was just whimpering in a ball. Just a nightmare? _Okay_. He knew how to deal with that. How many nightmares had a single Milkovich child endured at this age? He could calm Yevgeny down and get him back to sleep and everything would be okay.

 

                “A nightmare? Hey, that shit ain’t real, man. I used to get ‘em real bad, but,” he moved to sit at the end of the small bed, but jumped again when Yevgeny started screaming again. “Jesus fucking Christ, dude!” Mickey threw his arms up and the air and stormed out of the room. What the fuck was he supposed to do with this shit. His son wouldn’t let him touch him, wouldn’t even let him _near_ him. Why did he think he’d be able to do this? Be a dad? He couldn’t be a fuckin’ dad. He didn’t know what a good dad looked like, no way he’d be able to do that for someone.

 

                He was pacing around the living room with both hands firmly in his raven hair when Iggy came out of Yevgeny’s room. He could still hear crying and the occasional shouting of Ian’s name, so he knew that Iggy hadn’t actually resolved anything in there. He stopped walking and kept his back to his brother, who he could feel staring at him and shuffling his feet. “You, uh, you should get Ian over here…”

 

                “Fuck no.” Iggy sighed and sat on the couch.

 

                “Come one, man, he’s not gonna stop screaming and shit, trust me. Just call Ian and-“

 

                “I’m not fuckin’ callin’ him, Iggy. Fucking drop it,” Mickey snapped and turned around to face his brother. “He’s _my_ kid. Got it? _Mine_. You don’t fuckin’ get it, so shut your mouth about shit you don’t know anything about.” Mickey moved to walk past the couch and out of the room, but Iggy stood up from the couch and blocked his way. Having height on his side, Iggy got Mickey to freeze where he stood, looking up at him with raised eyebrows. “What the fuck do-“

 

                “No, shut the fuck up, man. I get it, he’s your kid, but that’s the not fuckin’ point. You gotta put the shit with Ian away. This ain’t about your bullshit with each other, it’s about Yevgeny, who’s freaking the fuck out and needs Ian.” Iggy poked a finger into the center of Mickey’s chest when he rolled his eyes and moved to walk past him. “So, suck it the fuck up, fucking call Ian, and let your damn kid see him and just make him fucking happy again.” Iggy pointed a harder look down at Mickey. Mickey took a step back and looked at his brother, because why the fuck was he acting like he was in charge? And what did he mean about Yev being happy again? Wasn’t he happy now? Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe it was all some act to make himself feel better or something. Maybe they weren’t actually getting closer, but Yevgeny was just getting better at faking how he really felt about Mickey.

 

                “He’s unhappy?” he asked quietly, nodding towards the sound of the faint crying down the hall. He couldn’t lift his eyes to meet his brother.

 

                “You took Ian from him.”

 

                “Fuck,” Mickey breathed, rubbing his hands over his face. This was his fault. He’d have to fix it. “Fuckin’ call him,” he said, defeated, and fell back onto the couch. He dug around the coffee table for cigarettes and a lighter, and smoked one down as fast as he could. Iggy just nodded and walked back to his room and dug around for his phone. He paced his room while he waited for Ian to answer.

 

                “Iggy? I just fuckin’ fell asleep, man,” Ian mumbled when the line connected.

 

                “Yeah-oh, uh, sorry, dude. I didn’t know what you were doin’ but-“

 

                “Yeah, cause you never fuckin’ text me anymore.” Iggy ran a hand through his hair with guilt. He hadn’t meant to just leave Ian with radio silence, but things were tense around the house. He also had started picking up more shifts after Svetlana left, to try and help out with money, so he was really just trying to sleep and work as much as possible these days.

 

                “Look, I’m sorry man, we’ll fuckin’ catch up another time, okay? Can you come over?” There was a muffling over the line, like Ian was sitting up in bed or moving around.

 

                “What happened?” His voice was crystal clear now; no trace of sleep or loathing for the lack of communication, just concern.

 

                “Yev had a nightmare and we can’t get him to stop screaming,” Iggy said as he strolled back into the hallway to listen for his nephew, and there was more shuffling over the line.

 

                “You sure that’s a good idea if I-“

 

                “Don’t fuckin’ worry about Mick, man. He told me to call you. He won’t start shit, and I’ll get on his ass if he does. Just- fuckin’ get down here.” Iggy hung up the phone before Ian could say anything else, too tired to argue about that shit right now. He tossed his phone back onto the bed and ran his hands through his hair has he sighed. This shit was just getting annoying.

 

                Ian finished pulling up a pair of jeans and tossed on the closest sweater he could find in the dark of his room. He slipped his feet into his shoes and headed out of his room, wasting no time. It must be bad if Mickey actually told Iggy to call him. This was probably going to be so fucking awkward, but that didn’t matter; this was about Yevgeny and that’s all he cared about. He was about to actually see Yev and that was distracting him from the possible fight that could come out of this, and he didn’t even care about having to deal with Mickey at all, he just missed Yevgeny too much.

 

                He tip-toed down the old stairs to the kitchen, trying his best to avoid the creakier steps, hoping not to announce his presence to the house. He’s not sure if Fiona is asleep already, but he’s pretty sure she’s at least in her room by now, so he just had to make down the steps and he’d be home free-

 

                “Where ya goin’?” Ian jumped a bit, with his hand on the knob of the backdoor.

 

                “Holy fucking shit, FI. What are you doing?” Fiona shrugged from where she was smoking a cigarette at the kitchen table, the only light was from the moon shining in through the window and the small light above the stove.

 

                “Couldn’t sleep. I was hungry, too, so I was diggin’ around for shit.” Ian nodded, hand still on the door and shuffled on his feet. He didn’t want to just bail out on his sister, but he also didn’t want to sit around and chat; not to mention that he had to go calm Yev down. “Where ya goin’,” she asked again. He knew she wouldn’t like this.

 

                “I, uh, well, Iggy called, they need help with Yev, so…” he trailed and nodded his head back to the door. Fiona sat up and shuffled in her seat a bit.

 

                “Yeah? Ya goin’ over there this late?” Ian sighed and dropped his hand from the door and turned fully to his sister.

 

                “Yeah, they need my help.”

 

                “Mickey doesn’t even wanna see you. You sure-“

 

                “Yeah, Fiona. I’m sure. I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you it’s not about him.” Fiona frowned and shook her head.

 

                “No, no, calm down, Ian. I just meant what if you guys start fuckin’ fightin’?” Ian tilted his head and moved closer the table. This was a weird turn of events. Fiona had started going easier on him about the whole Yevgeny thing, but she may be getting it finally, or at least trying to not be as bitchy about it.

 

                “Oh. Uh, I don’t know. I guess he told Iggy to call me, so Iggy said he’d get in if he tried to start shit. I’m just going over there for Yev, though, so I’m not goin’ talk to him unless I have to.” Fiona nodded and stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray in front of her. Ian wanted to know how she really felt about this whole situation and what was going on in her head, but he didn’t know how exactly to approach it. They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes, with Ian trying to figure out how he could get out of here as nicely possible. He scratched the back of his neck and opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get the chance.

 

                “I’m sorry, ya know,” Fiona stated, looking down at the table with low brows.

 

                “For what?” Ian was taken aback. He can’t remember the last time she’d ever apologized for something, and didn’t even know what this was about.

 

                “For all the shit I say about you helpin’ them out,” she looked up to her brother and offered a small smile. “I know it took me a while, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it, and, I don’t know. It’s your life, right? And it’s not like you’re getting’ yourself arrested or shit, you’re helpin’ a kid out. I know I didn’t do the best at raisin’ you kids, but I tried my best and I like to think I taught you guys not be complete assholes all the time.”

 

                “And some of us actually caught on,” Ian laughed, Fiona joining in and nodding along.

 

                “Yeah, well _you_ did. I’m actually really proud of you for doing that. Not a lot of people would just fuckin’ help out like that, especially not the kid of their ex.” Ian smiled softly and nodded.

 

                “I love Yev, ya know?” He shrugged his shoulders.

 

                “It’s fuckin’ cool, Ian, really. Better this than you goin’ out and really fuckin’ up your life,” she chuckled. Fiona stood up from the table and eyed Ian. “We good?” Ian nodded.

 

                “Yeah, Fi, we’re good.” She smiled genuinely and nodded to the door.

 

                “Kay, go to your kid,” she said and headed up the stairs. “Don’t forget that meetin’ in the morin!”

 

                “Thanks, Fi,” he called, smiling to himself, and opened the backdoor. He hopped down the stairs and started making his way down the street quickly. He was really glad that Fiona was coming around to the idea the Ian wanted to help Svetlana with Yevgeny. He wasn’t planning on stopping, except for when Mickey didn’t allow him, so it was nice that she was going to stop giving him so much shit for it. It was going to make things a lot easier. He wouldn’t feel so guilty for going over there or giving them money anymore. He could really work together with both families in the best way for everyone. Now if he could just get Mickey to work with him a little.

 

                Not too long after he’d left, Ian had found himself standing on the front porch of the Milkovich house. He hadn’t been back since Mickey told him to leave, and all the sudden, he was reliving the treacherous moments all over again in his head. This could go smoothly, with Ian just getting in and out, getting Yev to calm and go to bed, or, there could be a big blow up with Mickey and things could get even worse for Ian. He’d just have to play it by ear and feel out the tension when he got in. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. _For Yev_. He knocked on the door and took a step back to wait.

 

                The door pulled open, and even in the darkness of both outside and inside the house, Ian could tell it was Mickey staring back at him. The two just kept staring back at each other for a second, neither really knowing what to say. Mickey’s lips were parted, but no sound ever came out. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what, he didn’t even know if he was mad or happy to see the man standing before him. Finally, a scream from somewhere in the house had snapped both men back into reality, and without a word, Mickey stepped back to let Ian inside. He kept his eyes on the redhead as he slowly entered the house and made his way to Iggy who was standing against the back of the couch.

 

                “Ey, chelovek,” Ian greeted to him. Iggy nodded and yawned. Ian looked behind himself where Mickey was closing the door and coming up to stand next to them with a scowl on his face from his distaste in the Russian being spoke. “ **He been going off for a while** ,” Ian asked in Russian, turning back to Iggy, who nodded again.

 

                “ **Yeah, he hasn’t stopped, he only wanted you, you know him** ,” Iggy replied. Mickey’s head shot to Iggy and his frown somehow deepened.

 

                “Oh, what the fuck? Does no one fuckin’ speak English in this fuckin’ house,” Mickey shot between the two of them. Iggy turned to his brother to answer him, but Ian was still a little too salty with Mickey and wasn’t having it.

 

                “ **He’s really going to be an asshole right now** ,” Ian asked and rolled his eyes. Iggy looked back to Ian, feeling very uncomfortable.

 

                “ **He just feels left out** ,” he tried to defend his brother. Ian shook his head and looked Mickey straight in the eye.

 

                “ **Stop being a fucking baby, grow up** ,” Ian bit slowly, looking the shorter man up and down. Mickey pushed his head forward, closer to Ian and raised his eyebrows.

 

                “Speak fucking English!” Mickey shouted, almost shrieked, right in Ian’s face. Iggy quickly put a hand around Ian’s arm and tugged him away from Mickey. Things were already getting too tense, he didn’t need punches to start being thrown.

 

                “Come on, man, it’s not-“ Iggy tried but was cut off when Ian jerked his arm back and pushed past Iggy, away from the two brothers.

 

                “Whatever,” he muttered under his breath. He stomped his way down the hall and into Yevgeny’s room where the child was unmoved from the corner of his bed, still crying as hard as ever.

 

                “M-morkov'?” Yevgeny asked through his heavy sobs.

 

                “Hey, krolik. I missed ya, bud,” Ian said softly as he entered the room. He made his way to the bed and sat on the edge. Immediately, Yevgeny crawled across the mattress to sit in Ian’s lap, already calming down when the man wrapped his long arms around his small frame in a tight hug. “Bad dream?” Yev nodded and nuzzled his head deeper into the warmth of Ian’s chest. “Wanna talk about it?” Yev stayed still for a minute before slowly nodding and lifting his head enough to speak. He still had tears coming down his face and was shaking a bit, but he was having an easier time speaking.

 

                “T-they came to ge-get you and mom-mommy,” Yev said quietly. Ian hugged him even tighter and lowered his head, so his forehead was resting on the crown of Yev’s head and closed his eyes.

 

                “It’s okay, rabbit, we’re okay. Mom’s just gone on a little vacation, but she’ll be back, remember? And I’m right here, I just can’t come over as much is all. And the monsters, they’re not real, remember? They’re scary but they’re only in your dreams, they can’t get you.” Ian began rocking back and forth to try to soothe Yevgeny even further. He kissed the top of the boy’s head and pulled back to look at his reddened face. He knew he needed a distraction, and thought maybe he’d like to hear about his week, since they haven’t seen each other in a while. “Wanna hear about work?”

 

                Yevgeny sat up in Ian’s lap and nodded. “Will you stay with me tonight?” Ian didn’t know if he was ‘allowed’ to stay over for the night, but, he figured if Mickey wanted Yev to keep quiet for the rest of the night, he was going to just have to deal with him spending the night.

 

                “Sure, krolik. Let’s lay down, okay?” Yevgeny nodded again and crawled off Ian to move back and sit against the wall. Ian stood up and grabbed the pillow and blanket off the floor and put them on the bed. Yevgeny slid down from the wall and laid his head on the pillow while Ian laid himself down on the edge of the bed and covered them both up with the blanket, moving closer to the middle of the bed so he could hold Yevgeny.

 

                Mickey stood in the doorway, watching quietly on as Ian talked to his son, and eventually climbed into bed with him, the talking turning to a whispering he couldn’t pick up on. He had one arm crossed across his chest while the other was resting over it so he could bite on this right thumb nail while he leaned against the door frame. He’d always known Ian was good with kids, having seen him with his own siblings, but this was incredible. There was no way Mickey would be able to calm a child that easily. Every time he _had_ tried to do anything with Yevgeny, it had blown up in his face and only caused a bigger fight between the two of them.

 

                This was probably more what it was like to be a good dad than anything Mickey had tried doing the past week, and he hated how uncappable he was of it. He was barely able to get the both of them through the day with full stomachs and clean clothes. How was he supposed to do this shit, though? He’d never be able to get Yevgeny calm and back to sleep. Was he supposed to call Ian every time the kid had another nightmare? He didn’t want Ian in their lives anymore, no matter much he really did still love him, he didn’t really want to run to him every time he couldn’t handle something. But, maybe it was time to make some changes and compromises with this whole thing and just finally go about fixing it. Nothing about this was getting easier like he had hoped, but was just more confusing and frustrating.

 

                Behind him, he felt Iggy come stand next to him, leaning against the hall wall and watching his brother intently. “What?” Mickey snapped quietly, not wanting Ian to know he was watching on. Iggy shook his head.

 

                “You can’t keep them apart, man. They need each other.” Mickey moved his eyes back on Ian and Yevgeny; the man he loved and his son. This was something he’d dreamed of, once. When Ian had basically moved in and was helping out with Yev, the idea of having a family, with Ian, hadn’t scared him anymore, but was something he found himself wanting. It was weird. Being that he never wanted anything to do with something so domestic, it came as a shock to him when he wanted nothing more than that one fantasy. He could still have a chance at that, if he was lucky.

 

                “I know,” Mickey whispered.

 

 

⁂

 

 

               You would think after a night of a four-year-old child screaming and crying, it would be easier to go about your night and just sleep; but that wasn’t the case for Mickey. He had inevitably just stayed up until practically minutes before sunrise, chain smoking and stressing himself into sickness. As much as he hated to think so, he may have to bring Ian back into Yev’s life and start working with him. Last night had proven that Mickey just wasn’t able to do this shit by himself, and who better to help than Ian? Not only did Yev want him, but Ian actually wanted to help, so why should he be denying that? It seemed kind of pointless to put so much effort into trying to keep pushing Ian away, just to turn around and bring him back.

 

               Over the night, Mickey had wondered if Ian would accept the peace offering, and come back to helping with Yev, or if he wouldn’t be so easy to persuade. What if he was still pissy about everything and didn’t want to have to deal with Mickey, or was just going to be petty and not stick around because he was mad? It didn’t matter, though, not really. Even if Ian chose to leave Mickey to his own devices, he’d still have to try. He had come to the conclusion over the course of his late-night spiraling that he did need Ian in this, and had to let him see Yevgeny again.

 

               It would be tough, he knew that, but it would be nice to have more help, and he knew it put him in good with his son, so it would be worth it. _That’s_ what fatherhood was, he realized. It was doing shit you didn’t want to, because it was better for your kid. Yevgeny loved Ian, everyone knew that. Mickey thought that when he was kicking Ian out of their lives, he was doing it for his son, but now he could see he didn’t. He was so mad that Ian wanted nothing to do with him, that decided to hurt him, but threw Yev in the crossfire during the process. It wasn’t right, he knew that now. So, he’d have to fix it.

 

               It was in his last moments for consciousness before falling asleep that night, that he decided, for Yevgeny, he’d let Ian see the kid again. It was the only way to fix things. Mandy was right; whether or not he’d actually be able to move on from Ian, he had to at least try and be his friend. For Yev.

**Author's Note:**

> Russian to English Translations
> 
> Krashyy - Red
> 
> Schast'ye - Happiness
> 
> Oranzhevyy - Orange
> 
> Morkov' - Carrot
> 
> Krolik - Rabbit
> 
> Da - Yeah
> 
> Lapsha - Noodles
> 
> Spagetti - Spaghetti
> 
> Noch', morkov' - Night, carrot


End file.
